Eternity
by Beloved of Aragorn
Summary: Beneath the falling white blossoms in Imladris they met and under the shadow of Mindolluin they parted at long last. A great love woven throughout the legendary events of their destined lives. This is the tale in full of Aragorn and Arwen...
1. Heir of Isildur

DISCLAIMER: All places and most characters in this story are of Tolkien's genius creation, not mine, except for some few. This is another view on the story of Aragorn and Arwen beginning from when they first met in honour of Tolkien's vision so there is one part where I put in a snippet of one of the appendices in the _Lord of the Rings_. I hope you guys all like it and flames are accepted if they are suggestions or corrections but be nice! This is my first fic! Enjoy :)!

Morning dawned, twilight was broken, and the stars dissipated as the sun's brilliant light grew in the horizon. Golden shafts of sun fell upon the crystal waters of the Bay of Belfalas setting it alight like a field of diamonds. The light moved over the lands; Rohan's green fields glimmering as emeralds and still it continued bathing the kingdom of Gondor in a golden haze where the pale stone of Minas Tirith shone once they collided. It followed the Great River Anduin until it reached the bright forests of Lothlórien where the Elves dwelt in lingering peace. It topped the Misty Mountains towering above the Northern lands of Eriador where the snow-caps were set on fire by sunlight and, at last, it reached its swift-spreading fingers to the valley of Imladris where the race of the Elves also dwelt and enemies of the Dark Lord made a fortress. Bubbling streams and rushing rivers sparkled in the morning light of dawn. Old trees of mighty girth stood at their banks spreading into thick forests of lush green. More slender trees were among them and in the gardens of Rivendell where radiant flowers opened up to the sun's warm brush against their silky petals, and leafy bushes and growth surrounded the brilliant array of colours pleasing to the eye. A fair company rode into Rivendell, travelling the dirt road leading down into the verdant valley where the dwellings of the Elven people gleamed amidst the waterfalls and greenery. Rushing water filled the air alongside the sweet song of the many colourful birds flitting amongst the blossoming trees.

"It is always marvellous to return to Imladris," murmured an Elven maiden cloaked in rich blue velvet beaded in silver in a pattern of a mighty tree reaching out as far as it was able with its full branches. Beneath the hood of her cloak, eyes of glittering grey shone like reflected moonlight upon water when evening first draws on. Her pale, smooth hands stroked the horse's white, glossy neck.

"My lady, I understand now why you do not reside in one place only," said an Elf of her escort. He steered his horse towards the Last Homely House, and they rode beneath the arch at the dwelling's head. Emerald vines twined around the tall arch of light stone woven above the brown earth. The Elf-maiden hurriedly dismounted, her movements swift and graceful. The others were not as quick to leave their horses. She moved inside with joyful haste and glimpsed dark hair and tall figures down the hall once she removed her hood. Master Elrond was speaking to Erestor, a close advisor and companion.

"Atar!" she said, nearly running to him. Elrond turned round, the severity in his face softening to loving adoration.

"Arwen!" he said as she threw her arms around his neck, and they embraced. "I did not know you had arrived, my daughter." He stepped back to study her face. "My beautiful daughter."

Arwen smiled, white teeth gleaming. The white gems upon her brow glinted faintly. "Father, I have missed our evenings near the fire speaking of lore long forgotten. Much has changed in Middle-earth while I walked the woods of Lórien. When duty releases you, we must talk as in days before."

"Of course," Elrond said smiling. "For now I must speak with Erestor of things too dark for such a joyous moment. I am glad you have returned."

Arwen touched his cheek and left her father and Erestor to themselves. She spent the remainder of daylight wandering the beautiful, unmatched gardens of Rivendell. Tumbling waterfalls glinted in the fading light once the sun began to set behind the Misty Mountains in shadow. Arwen found herself in a grove of birches where white blossoms began to close as the sun set. _Elrond was pondering or dreading something_, she thought as she stepped in a slow gait. _He had something to do soon before he could spend time with me. I wonder..._

A silver light was in the glade, blossoms bright and open. She suddenly heard a voice quite pleasant to the ear and like unto an elven voice though deeper and clear. She listened as she walked, realising what song it was: the Lay of Leithian. It was a beautiful unveiling in Quenya, and the man who sang it spoke the Ancient Speech well.

_What man is this that he should sing so well and sound different as well as alike to an Elf?_ Arwen Evenstar watched straight ahead entranced by the voice. Suddenly, it ended the lay and paused a moment before calling, "Tinúviel! Tinúviel!" Arwen halted and turned to see who called her so. She smiled when she saw a young lord standing amidst the trees, his shadowy hair shimmering with starlight and skin pale and smooth. His tunic was dark green and his breeches black as the night. Yet these things were last in her mind. The only thing she could see were his eyes, o his shining eyes! She moved closer.

"Who are you? And why do you call me by that name?"

"Because I believed you to be indeed Lúthien Tinúviel, of whom I was singing. But if you are not she, then you walk in her likeness." Fairest among Men and Elves was she, daughter of Elrond. Dark tresses of hair were stirred by the breeze of twilight, and the gems on her brow reflected the glinting starlight so that it seemed stars from the heavens had alighted upon her. Her skin was flawless and radiant in a face untouched by the years where a pair of silver eyes watched with discerning wisdom of long ages of the world.

"So many have said," she answered gravely. "Yet her name is not mine. Though maybe my doom will be not unlike hers. But who are you?" She had realised just how tall he was once he stood before her, a vision of those Men called Númenóreans from the Elder Days though young he was.

"Estel I was called," he said, "but I am Aragorn, Arathorn's son, Isildur's Heir, Lord of the Dúnedain."

She laughed merrily and said, "Then we are akin from afar. For I am Arwen Elrond's daughter, and am named also Undómiel."

"Often is it seen," said Aragorn, "that in dangerous days men hide their chief treasure. Yet I marvel at Elrond and your brothers; for though I have dwelt in this house form childhood, I have heard no word of you. How comes it that we have never met before? Surely your father has not kept you locked in his hoard?" Aragorn's voice was deep and melodious, singing its own song among the trees. Arwen saw his youth—even for a Mortal Man—yet in the quickening evening he appeared as though out of a silver mist fastening the Third Age with the First when legends roamed the earth.

"No," she said, and looked up at the Mountains that rose in the east. "I have dwelt for a time in the land of my mother's kin, in far Lothlórien. I have but lately returned to visit my father again. It is many years since I walked in Imladris." Arwen saw wonder in his eyes and met his keen, brilliant gaze. "Do not wonder! For the children of Elrond have the life of the Eldar."

Recognition dawned in his eyes as the sun peeks above the mountains at its rising. Arwen smiled still at the youth for he was keen as a newly sharpened blade. There was no need for words or explanation. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, had aroused her curiosity for few among Men resembled such long-lost glory. A new light kindled in his bright eyes, and Arwen Undómiel marvelled at what she saw.

* * *

Elrond and Arwen sat in the Hall of Fire nearly alone in a corner. Both did not notice the other's absence of mind for each was somewhere else. Arwen suddenly looked around and glimpsed Aragorn across the room. His grey eyes flickered with firelight as they quickly turned their attention elsewhere. She smiled faintly and looked down at her lap. Elrond finally woke from his thoughts and looked to his daughter. 

"Yendenya, long it has been since you were here last, and it has been long since I visited the Golden Realm. How fare Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn?"

Arwen looked up from her hands. "Well, Atar. They send their greetings to the Lord of Rivendell." She stood to gaze out of the low window nearby. "Their land is fair, yet I must say Imladris is just as beautiful."

Elrond smiled and joined Arwen. It had been two days since her arrival in his realm and already she seemed to have never departed from his sight. His daughter was a resplendent star unveiled in the heavens to him for he loved her more than life itself. Ever since her mother Celebrían had sailed into the West, he had grown ever closer to Arwen and her two brothers Elladan and Elrohir. His children were more precious than any rare gem or fertile land.

Arwen slipped a hand as soft as silk into his and gazed up into his eyes. He then recalled the days of her youth when she was only as high as his waist. A slight smile bloomed on his ageless face.

"Atar...you cannot know how marvellous it is for me to be here. Each time I return it grows greater and more beautiful. This may be where my heart truly lies even though I dearly love my kindred in the Southern Realm. Galadriel is of blood, yet...she will never be as dear to me as my father."

Elrond fingered her dark hair and looked out upon the lands under his rule and authority. He wondered how in such dark times he could feel so blessed and merry.

* * *

The following week a feast was prepared in honour of Arwen's return to Rivendell. Elrond and the Elves that resided in that glorious place all sat at meat that evening as the sun descended. Much food and drink was served—seeming to be an unending supply—while the gathered Elves laughed and made merry until darkness took the land and stars bloomed in the night sky. In its beginning, Arwen, the Evenstar of her people, sat at Lord Elrond's right hand while the golden-haired Elf Glorfindel sat at his left. There was also Erestor, Lindir, and others of high council in Elrond's eyes. They had also lived as many years as Elrond himself or longer even. 

There was another near that honoured end of the table. Arwen thought he would stand out dramatically among such high and noble Elf-kindred him being of Mortal blood, yet he somehow seemed to blend if one could ignore his youthful face. Arwen had not noticed until then how handsome Aragorn was for even among the Fair Folk he appeared quite pleasing to the eye. She stole a few glances in his direction when Elrond or Glorfindel was not appealing to her.

Aragorn could not restrain his eyes from wandering towards the fair Evenstar. He found himself staring at times and was glad of the lack of conversation directed his way. Arwen had seen him watching her more than once now, and he felt her knowing gaze fall on him as a tree looks down upon a flower in the ground at its roots.

"Lady Arwen," said Glorfindel, "it is good to see you once again. How fared Lórien?"

"Well, Glorfindel," she smiled. "Its gold and silver woods are still a treasure in my heart as well as my kin there."

Enchanted by her beauty and wisdom, Aragorn dared not speak to her. He felt insignificant beside such a glorious being. He only listened as others questioned her of the Golden Wood ruled by the Lord and Lady Celeborn and Galadriel.

Aragorn may have guarded his eyes more carefully if he would have observed Elrond's discerning gaze that had fallen upon him when he caught him concentrating on Arwen Undómiel. He suddenly felt a sense of dread seeing a young man, whom he thought of as a son, watch the Evenstar with such intensity...a mortal man. His face did not change, yet he could not help but observe his beloved daughter more carefully.

Arwen forgot the troubles of the world and of Rivendell, allowing herself to fall into mirth and merriment of the night. All was forgotten, the only thing heeded was joy and love.

* * *

Arwen entered Elrond's study where he sat reading a newly opened parchment with a broken seal. He glanced up when she came before him. She had seen Aragorn near the place earlier and wondered what had set his face in such a gloomy state. 

"Elrond...may I inquire as to where Elladan and Elrohir have gone?"

"With the Dúnedain of the North. You know they become restless when Orcs still roam the lands."

"The only reason I am not with them is the fact that I understand that no matter how many we slay, mother will not return."

Elrond nodded sadly, dropping the letter to the table. "In that you are wiser, yet I do not believe that is their reason for fighting the evil forces."

"Of course. They fight for the sake of opposing Sauron and his wicked minions. That I understand, yet I also know that each and every one of you would object to my joining the struggle. Even though I know the bow and sword well, it is not my place to be in battle."

Elrond met her gaze directly. "You have seen this?"

"I have, for I know that my destiny is quite different from fighting the Enemy's armies so directly. I am fighting them indirectly even if I am not sure exactly how just yet. Someday it shall be revealed to me and the veil taken away."

"Someday, yendenya. Each of us has a purpose whether we know it or not. Some never know what they were put here for."

Arwen wandered over to the sheer drapes separating the outside balcony from Elrond's study, and they parted at her gentle touch. The spring wind blowing from the West stirred her dark hair tumbling down her back. "There is something else troubling you," she said quietly when Elrond joined her. "I have seen it swelling inside of you these past weeks, and I yearn to hear it. The first day I arrived especially. What secrets are you concealing within your heart that you dare not share with any of your kindred?"

"Perhaps not with my kindred, yet with a daughter of Men who resides here...for now. This is something for us. You may hear of it..." Elrond cut off abruptly and his brows drew down in a slight frown. "Never mind." He looked up to find her watching him curiously and holding her mantle of lavender close against her skin. Arwen glimpsed a flicker of fear in her father's eyes. She had never been anxious in her life until that moment.

* * *

For a time, Aragorn felt his head ache and his heart sing. After Elrond's talk with him, his heart sang no more. Reality had struck him in the face using his foster-father's words, and Gilraen, his mother, had not comforted him by almost repeating what Lord Elrond had said. He knew he must depart soon to a life transformed where his life of unawareness must take no part. He knew his true lineage and purpose now, and had to leave behind his peaceful years to engage in trials and tribulations sent to him from the Enemy. He knew what was ahead—to a point—yet faced it without fear, eyes piercing straight ahead into his future. Aragorn stepped into it without hesitation. 

The next day he made ready to leave Imladris shining as many gems in the sunlight. Gilraen bid him farewell sorrowfully and Elrond was grim as he watched his foster-son go. Aragorn did not look over his shoulder as he led his horse through the trees. All his young years, he was prepared for this fate: Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel taught him use of weapons and fighting while Elrond, Gilraen, and other Elves instructed him in wisdom, lore, and knowledge. Now that he knew who he truly was, everything began to piece together.

Arwen had been present at his departure. He had had difficulty keeping his attention elsewhere. She was standing behind Master Elrond in shining white and dark hair furled about a face so perfect and beautiful that it filled his vision even while he journeyed up out of the elvish valley. Hope that she would ever find in her heart to love him in return was quickly fading in his spirit.


	2. Man of Riddles

Arantar belted on his sword as he moved towards Vorondil who stood watching the dark forest with bright, grey eyes. He was young for a Ranger of the North, and Arantar thought him teetering on paranoid at times, so he was often chosen to keep watch at night.

"Anything?"

Vorondil shook his head without taking away his eyes from the shadows of the early dawn. "Only a herd of deer passing through. No travellers yet." He shifted uncomfortably.

"What is troubling you?"

"There was little noise last night...barely a rustle when there should be all sorts of night creatures. The deer were a surprise to me. Surprises are not good."

Their swords flew out of their sheaths when an unfamiliar voice spoke out of the darkness.

"Then you will forgive me for coming upon you like this."

Arantar whirled around to face the man, but realised from the voice it was a youth younger even than Vorondil. He lowered his blade and gazed sternly on him. Vorondil did the same though he kept his sword prepared for an attack. It was not until then that Arantar truly saw the stranger. He threw back his hood before they could react further, and both Rangers held their reserve but gripped the hilts of their swords tighter. The stranger was quite young, yet he bore himself as one of great nobility. Arantar was astounded at how similar the man looked to one of the Dúnedain blood.

"Forgive me for coming upon you without warning, yet I fear my task is an important one," he said. "I search for the Dúnedain of the North."

"You have found them," Arantar said, marvelling at the young man's voice and appearance. He not only upheld himself as a high lord would, but spoke and looked as one. He had never seen a handsomer youth or such sharp eyes he felt sliced to his soul. They were grey, piercing eyes with a glance full of wisdom and knowledge surprising for one his age. And to think...he, in fact, had come upon them without their knowing. This was near impossible for Rangers are the most skilled in tracking, observing their surroundings, and keenest in hearing and sight. This young man, who could be only twenty at the oldest, had stolen up behind them when not even a spy of the Enemy could. Arantar remembered the only two who had ever achieved such a feat were the sons of Elrond: the Elves.

"If you would grant us your identity, we will hear you out," said Vorondil.

"Granted." He paused as if wondering if he should continue. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn of the Dúnedain. I have come to search out those of my kindred for I will be in hiding no longer." He had lowered his voice considerably so that only they could hear.

The two other men exchanged startled glances. Could it truly be the descendant of the Chieftains of their people who they had thought dead long ago? Their last leader had been slain eighteen years ago by Orcs and had been an excellent captain to them, yet no one had known if his two-year-old son was alive afterwards.

"How is this?" Vorondil asked. He was always wary beyond thought.

The man who named himself Aragorn was in no way insulted or taken aback by their distrust or non-belief. He leaned on one foot with a hand on the pommel of his sword. "My kin, if I were of the Enemy's making, you would surely know it."

Arantar caught a glimmer of sparkling green that briefly reflected in the sunlight upon Aragorn's right hand. "My lord!" he cried kneeling at once. "I am ever at your service." Vorondil knelt more slowly for he had not seen the ring on his finger.

"You bear the Ring," said Arantar. "You truly must be the one we lost."

The younger Ranger's eyes searched Aragorn's hands, and when he saw the Ring of Barahir—two serpents swallowing the other's tail, crowned with gold, and with eyes of emeralds—he lowered his eyes and pledged himself to the younger man...if not as eagerly.

"Thank you, my friends," said Aragorn bidding them stand. "You have more faith than I could have hoped. There is no need to kneel and bow for you are my kindred and my own people."

"It is with delight I greet our new Chieftain," said Arantar. "Are you to...?"

Aragorn raised a hand. "I do not think to grasp the lead of our people so abruptly. It will be strange for them. They will..." He stopped, gazing around them. "Let us leave this place. We must speak of these things where no unfriendly ears may listen. We may have spoken too much already."

The two Rangers snapped back to their normal fashion and listened as Aragorn told them how he wished to visit the Dúnedain settlement where most the women and children lived. He did not tell them, but Gilraen had wished for him to speak with someone she knew of old. He also needed to see his people. _His_ people.  
The three men, one surprisingly taller and younger than the others, moved silently through the trees as shadows move between the branches. They halted beneath a particularly large tree with a mighty girth. Arantar made the sound of a lark, and two men cloaked in dark green moved out of the shadows of the trees. They spoke quietly a little ways apart from the other two, and Arantar beckoned them to follow.

Vorondil had seen everything before, yet Aragorn watched all with piqued interest. His keen eyes caught things that the others had hardly noticed. The men were leaving booted tread in the soft earth beneath the trees, so Aragorn pointed it out to them. "You leave tracks," he said loud enough for them to hear. All four turned round to stare at him.

One of those they had newly met glanced at the others. "We are mortals, young one." He grunted a laugh. "Only Elves leave no trail to follow."

Aragorn laughed and continued walking, passing them where they stood still. They all watched as his feet, booted as they were, left no footprints or any sort of trace in the ground. They all gazed ahead to where Aragorn had halted.

"Are you all coming or not?"

They exchanged bewildered looks with each other before catching up to him. The man who had mocked Aragorn stepped up to walk beside him. "You are a strange fellow, young one. I do believe our eyes have been cheated by an Elf. You are of the Elven kindred? You speak and move as one of their own."

"Nay, I have only a little of their blood. I am a mortal, yet as you yourself said...only Elves leave no trail to follow." He smiled and fell silent as they came to a sparser bit of forest where the borders of the Dúnedain settlement began. The two Rangers in green they had met were sentries keeping watch during the day.

The trees broke to a large clearing there in the mountains where small dwellings of stone and wood were built. Smoke rose from many of the stone chimneys rising to the tree-tops above and little of it escaped. There were people—all dark-haired and pale-eyed—moving from one building to the next or walking down the few paths there were. These were a people diminished once the greatest of Men, wealthy, and unchallenged among all in Middle- earth.

Aragorn felt sorrow build up enough that his eyes became wet with tears that did not fall. His kindred had fallen all the way to this; in his heart, he swore to bring them back up again no matter what it took...even if he must sacrifice all he had to do it. They deserved better.

"My lord." Arantar cleared his throat. "The day grows old. We will get some food and rest tonight. Are you coming?"

Aragorn did not look at him for he continued to watch the men and women. "Yes. Yes, I am coming."

They came to a place where Rangers stayed when they returned from their years or months in the forests and mountains of the North. The building they were in was similar to an inn like those in Bree and Esgaroth. Women cooked for the men gladly and rare smiles were brought up for their generosity. Aragorn was heartened when he saw the warmth that flowed from the dwelling and that people were only stern of face from the hardships they had born. Through them all, these people had persevered and travailed little, becoming the hardiest race of Men to live since the First Age. The Enemy could not break them completely.

Aragorn, Vorondil, and Arantar bid farewell to the two who had accompanied them. They both watched Aragorn curiously, yet said nothing more. Aragorn nodded to them as they walked out the door. The three left sat at a round table in a corner near a fire burning in the hearth. The crackling flames reminded Aragorn of the long nights in the Hall of Fire in Rivendell where the Elves sang and told tales long forgotten among most Men.

"You have a distant look in your eyes," said Arantar when he looked to the younger man. "Something plagues your thoughts?"

"Of sorts," he murmured.

When he would say no more, Vorondil now pressed. "Well, man? What is it?"

"Imladris. Glorious realm of the Elves and one of the last strongholds against the Dark Lord."

"You have been there?"

He smiled. "That is where I was raised, my friends. Twenty years at least. I have left now to take up the burden born to me."

They both stared at Aragorn. He truly was an incredible find if he was really who he claimed. They forgot their wonder when a young scullery maid approached, asking if they were up to a fine meal after travelling so far. Aragorn was still far away when the maid glimpsed his young, handsome face; she knew herself to be only a few years younger. Her eyes sparkled when she saw him.

"Where have my lords journeyed from this day?"

Arantar had to answer. "Near the Ford of Bruinen, good miss." He motioned to Aragorn. "This lad brought us all this way."

Aragorn looked up then to find the pretty maid watching him with quite a lot of interest. Her dark blue eyes glittered mysteriously in the firelight, yet to her he was even more mysterious the way he sat silent and brooding. His grey eyes drew her in without knowing it. _You shall neither have wife, nor bind any woman to you in troth, until your time comes and you are found worthy of it._ He shuddered at Elrond's words recalled and forced a polite smile. "Yes, I did. Do you know a woman by the name of Niorwen?"

"Niorwen? Yes, she lives not far from here deeper in the trees. It's not difficult to find for they have a blue door and..." she paused, "...well, you will see. I'll not trouble you with it until after you've all eaten properly." She flashed him a bright smile and left to fetch food and drink.

Arantar and Vorondil smiled secretively until they remembered his question.  
"What do you want of Niorwen?" Vorondil asked, his face becoming stern again.

"Lady Gilraen wishes me to see how she fares after all these years."

Arantar looked up sharply. "Gilraen? She lives?"

"Aye, she is my mother! She resides in Rivendell for the time being until she returns to her people."

"We thought her and her child lost when Arathorn was slain," said Arantar. Aragorn's face darkened. "He was your father then. I should have recalled all of this earlier. Forgive me for doubting a bit longer." He glanced down at Aragorn's hand on the table. "That alone should prove it more than anything."

Aragorn spun the Ring about his finger absently and shook his head. "I should put it away while I am here for these people will recognise it."

"And that is a reason why you should keep it on," said Vorondil leaning forward. "Then our people will recognise their true leader returned from hiding in his childhood. We need you, Aragorn. All of us do."

"I cannot walk into the open so boldly yet for this is barely the beginning for me, my friends." He could say no more for the maid laid a tray on the table with fine cuts of meat, slices of warm bread and butter, and little fruit.

"There you are," she said in her crystal voice. She pulled her dark brown hair over her shoulder as she made a study of Aragorn's high cheekbones and chiselled arms resting on the table.

Vorondil hid his smile with a lowered head, and Arantar thanked the young maiden warmly, who only briefly looked his way. When she left with a somewhat mirthful appearance, Arantar picked up a piece of bread. "And you do not take interest in women who take interest in you. You only did what was courteous, and you did not attempt to conceal that fact. You are a strange young man, Aragorn."

"That is something I wished to mention," said Aragorn. "My name must be hidden as it once was."

"You will pick up one along the way," Vorondil smiled, "yet you avoid Arantar's inquiry."

Aragorn surprised them then by looking up and meeting each of their gazes directly and intently. "There is no mortal woman upon this earth who will take my notice, and I shall leave it at that. That is one thing I forbid you to speak of."

An image of Arwen Evenstar clothed in silver and blue gliding among the birch trees when twilight drew on, her hair a waterfall of shadows cast about her and her skin pale and glowing, had filled his mind like a sweet perfume fills ones senses as its wearer passes close by. Hope rekindled in his heart when he remembered her eyes when he bid all farewell; there was melancholy and a certain regret that he had not seen before.

"All right then," said Vorondil. "If that is your wish."

* * *

Aragorn lay on his bed, hands beneath his head in a tangle of dark hair gazing up into the stars through a window there in the room. It was small and quaint but comfortable with only a bed, table and chair, and shelf. He had brought up an oil lamp and some candles to light the room yet had ended up satisfied with the stars shining down from the rich violet heavens.

The scullery maid had approached him afterwards with directions to Niorwen's home...and more. She had tried all she could to get his attention, but he refused to budge. She might as well have sent her warm smiles to a boulder on the hillside. He knew he might seem rude, although, if he would have so much as smiled or seemed welcome she would have thought him open to her flirting. He had asked Arantar if all the young maidens of the Dúnedain were so. He had laughed and said he had never seen one act so flirtatious except around Aragorn. He had then stopped laughing to eye Aragorn up and down.

"Yes," he had said, "only around you, Aragorn."

"There is only one," he murmured into the night breeze that wafted through his window. "Only one, and she is far away where the borders are safe." He closed his eyes to allow sleep to overcome him. "May she remain that way."

* * *

Aragorn woke early the following morning to miss the scullery maid and to find Niorwen's home in the forest. He followed the maiden's directions and approached a small place nestled between the trees where the shadows of the leaves danced. He rapped lightly on the door hoping everyone woke at such an hour when the sun first rose. His hope was satisfied when a middle-aged woman opened the door a crack.

"Yes?" she said warily, eyeing him up and down. "Who calls at such an early hour?"

"The son of Lady Gilraen," said Aragorn.

The woman's eyes sparkled, and she beckoned Aragorn to enter. "Tell me your name, lad, and what has become of Gilraen. We may speak without bother here." She had him sit in a room where a small hearth stood against the wall of dark timbers. "In all my years...you are the greatest surprise I shall ever know." Aragorn thanked her. She seemed lost in thought once they sat. "And you look like your father." Her voice lightened. "A handsomer man could not exist."

He laughed merrily. "The Dúnedain are well spoken indeed! I have no need of such compliments."

"Then tell me...is Gilraen living?"

"Yes, and living well. She resides in Rivendell with Master Elrond."

"Rivendell. I never thought to hear of our kindred dwelling in such a place. That is where you have been, yes?"

"Yes. My mother sends word. She hopes you are well and that all goes well with you here. She misses your company at times," he said.

Niorwen nodded sadly and wrung her hands. Wrinkles were beginning to show in the pale skin. "As do I. When you return, or see her again, tell her our time spent together was not in vain. She is of the greatest companions a woman could have. Tell her that."

"I shall," said Aragorn. "I am sure she would say the same of you."

"I would hope so. Your mother was ever so kind and generous to others. I hope to see her again one day. Such a noble woman with such a noble son." She smiled, breaking the hardness of her face. "I know who you are."

Aragorn looked up to meet her gaze. "What do you mean, my lady?"

"Your father was Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and Gilraen his wife. The Rangers of the North have been long without a true leader. Have you returned to us to relieve them of this trouble?"

He gazed down at the floor and rubbed his hands together. He shook his head slowly. "My fate lies before me, yet I cannot see it. I am young to lead such a noble people. For a time I shall journey with them and perhaps in some years from now...I will take up the responsibility."

Niorwen nodded as if that were the answer she hoped to hear. "You are wise beyond your years, but you forget yourself as a young man does. May I hear your name?"

Aragorn gave a start. "Forgive me! I had not thought. I am Aragorn, though I shall have another name soon enough for my own safety."

Aragorn and Niorwen spoke for a time of Gilraen and other things, and she did not again mention anything of his lineage for which he was thankful. After an hour or more passed, Aragorn rose to leave.

"Thank you for coming," said Niorwen. "It means more to me than you may know to hear from Gilraen...and her son."

"Then I am glad to have come," he smiled after bowing over her hand.

"Such formality as well." Her eyes sparkled. "Be careful of the young women in the village."

His cheeks flushed slightly as he cleared his throat. "I already have had an…encounter. A young woman at the inn found me to her liking, I suppose."

Niorwen laughed quietly as they walked to the door. She reminded Aragorn of his mother when she laughed and smiled; something Gilraen had not done of late. "I bid you farewell, my lady, for I will soon be among the Rangers of the North travelling the Wild. I may not see you again for some time."

"Or ever. My only wish is that you remember my words for Lady Gilraen," said the elder woman.

Aragorn departed her home and thought on what she had said. As he was making his way down the dirt road running through the settlement, he was stopped by an old woman with eyes shining with amazement.

"Young man," she said in a soft voice, "may I inquire as to your name? You...remind me of someone."

Aragorn hesitated. "My name would not be known to you, lady. I have travelled from afar though I am of your blood, and I have not been seen before. You must be mistaken or...I only resemble someone you know."

"It was a man long years ago. He had visited this place at times when he was not leading our men in the Wild. His name was Arathorn. Does that mean anything to you?"

"I have heard his name many times. He was the last Chieftain. I have business to attend to, my lady. Good day." Aragorn left her standing in the road with a warm smile until he was further away. His face then hardened, and he lifted a hand to his brow. He did not know how long he would have to conceal his identity, yet he hoped it was not much longer than now.

* * *

That night, Arantar and Vorondil found Aragorn sitting against a tree watching the stars. Arantar drew in a sharp breath when he caught sight of the youth. His shadowy hair hung to his shoulders, glimmering with moonlight, and his eyes pierced the shadows of evening. His long legs were stretched out before him, and he fingered a wild flower blossom he had found nearby in long, pale hands. Arantar had not seen the work of those hands with a sword, yet he had no doubt that the young man had to be an excellent swordsman if he had dwelt with the Elves, walked without leaving traces, and crept upon Rangers without them knowing. The lean muscle of his arms also told of his skill.

"Come friends!" he said without turning his head. "The stars are unveiled and glorious. Have you not looked at them?"

"You are a strange man, Aragorn. You have an elven ring to your voice, you appear as one of the Fair Folk, you make no sound nor footprints, and you watch the stars as Men did in tales of old. And you tell me you are not of the Elven kindred?" said Arantar.

A rich laugh escaped Aragorn's throat. "What do you expect from one who was half-raised by them? Come and sit! It is not only Men of old that gazed into the heavens to see the glittering stars. Do you not ever stop to see what surrounds you? I often do when everything slows in the world. It gives me peace to still see them shining as bright as ever even when darkness closes in on Middle-earth. There is always a beam of hope." His voice had softened suddenly.

Arantar reluctantly sat beside him with Vorondil following more slowly. They watched their new companion with renewed interest for he never seemed to fail to reveal something new of himself; however, Arantar knew in his heart that he would never fully understand the man or see all the folds of his cloak.

"We came to inform you that you are to accompany a group of three Rangers that are here when they pass from this place into the mountains and forests of these lands. I had spoken to them of you and...well...that you were of our own blood and wished to truly become one of us. I have no doubts that you will do well among them."

"I grant many thanks to you, Arantar. You have done me a great service," said Aragorn, tearing away his gaze from the dark heavens. "All of our people shall soon know of my true identity. I think it is time for I feel pressed upon, though I may not lead everyone and our forces just yet."

"Do you wish me to announce it, my lord? It can be done tonight."

Aragorn paused for a moment. "Yes. That would be good."

"It is done then."


	3. Approach of Fate

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks everyone who's been reading my story; especially lindahoyland and Eldarwen Elanesse! I hope to have more people reading it, but for now here's chapter 3. I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far :).

Arwen looked up from her book as Elladan and Elrohir entered the room, each alike in appearance to the other with identical smiles gracing their elven faces. "Elrohir! Elladan! It is good to see you again," she said leaping to her feet and embracing both of them at the same time. They all three laughed and smiled and began speaking to one another at once.

"Your stay in Lórien was well?"

"Yes, how went your journeying with the Dúnedain?"

"Quite well really. I heard there was great rejoicing here when you arrived."

"Yes, they say there was a feast of special magnificence!"

"Indeed. Tell me of your journeys and let us sit together."

They all quieted and sat outside in the courtyard where stone benches had been placed. Arwen listened as her two brothers recounted some of their affairs with the Rangers of the North.

"That is indeed thrilling," said Arwen smiling at each of them. "Sometimes I wish I could join you."

"Ai, but your place is with your people. They seem heartened wherever you go."

Arwen wondered if Aragorn was with the Dúnedain now. He was someone with too many layers for her to understand at once. She saw ahead of him a terrible choice of incredible greatness or to forsake his burden to fall into darkness. She realised she was staring off into the trees, and her brothers were watching her. Her eyes shone when she returned her attention to them.

"You wander paths we cannot take," said Elrohir. "I have often seen you distant even before mother sailed into the West."

"I believe we did not gain that which is precious to our kin...the foresight gifted to many of the Elves by Ilúvatar. Father has it, yet we do not."

"Dear sister, you have the gift, and I have seen it in your eyes many times," said Elladan meeting her gaze with eyes of brilliant grey.

Elrohir laughed. "Even the line of Númenórean kings were gifted with it; the greatest ones anyway."

Arwen tilted her head at this. "Does Aragorn son of Arathorn?"

Elladan and Elrohir both fell silent for a moment.

"You know of him then..." Elladan murmured. "Few in Middle-earth know who he truly is and that he even exists. The Enemy would hunt him like a deer of the wood if he found out."

"And slay him without thought for there are none of Men he fears more than the Heir of Isildur," said Elrohir. "Aragorn still must hide his identity even now."

"And, I fear, for many more years of Men…though little time for us," said Arwen. The twins nodded almost in unison. "He is different than other Men even in his youth."

"We taught him well!" Elladan smiled grimly. "The minions of the Enemy cannot match him in anything but the sense of dread that comes upon those near them. This Aragorn only has against the enemies of all Free Peoples."

The sun fell behind the snowy range of the Misty Mountains, the shadows lengthening and falling across the valley. A cool breeze suddenly came down from the mountains from the West caressing the leaves of the trees and the petals of the flowers. Arwen and her brothers waited as the grey of evening passed and the stars appeared one by one. She gazed up into the rich purple heavens, immediately focusing on a star that glittered a bit more and shone a bit brighter than all the others: Gil-Estel, Star of Eärendil.

* * *

Aragorn had been now three years with the Rangers roaming the North and stemming the tide of evil things attempting to enter Eregion. They had come to respect his skill and his quick wisdom over the long months. Aragorn and two others were in Bree for the night at an inn called The Prancing Pony. They no longer had to instruct him—they had not much in any case—but he had become a part of their force against the shadow. He had even wandered the Wild without companions for three months.

Aragorn had found that the people of Bree were not exactly fond of Rangers; they thought them vagabonds of the Wild to be feared or disfavoured. Aragorn often kept his hood far over his face so he did not have to abide the stares from some of the Bree-landers. He moved swiftly on his long legs down the streets, brushing past other men—quite shorter most times—and attempting to blend although it was difficult when they gaped at him.

He continued to conceal his sword beneath his cloak and still had not even shown it to the Dúnedain for it was no simple woodsman's cot he carried. When Elrond informed him of his noble bloodline of legends, he had given him two things: the Ring of Barahir, which he now wore on his finger, and the Shards of Narsil. This he kept in a sheath at his side shrouded in his dark cloak while his useful blade was strapped to his back so that he would not remain completely unarmed.

He was learning that the Dúnedain were much different from other Men, and some in Bree were more like ruffians of the road. Some actually were travellers staying in the village of Bree even in the same inn as Aragorn. As he strode past an alley small and cramped, he heard a man's voice sharp and angry. When he slowed to see, he saw that a burly man had an iron fist clutching the collar of a man a foot shorter and looking quite frightened. He caught a little of the conversation.

"You stole my horse!"

"I swear I didn't! I swear it!"

The big man tightened his grip. "Of course you did; who else would? You're the only one who hates me so much," he said in icy tones.

"But I wouldn't steal no horse! I've got my own and finer it is than the one you've got...had," said the frightened man. The other man released him but made sure he did not bolt out of the alleyway.

Aragorn heard not only truth in the small man's voice, but logic as well. He felt his feet move towards them when the small man was struck in the stomach and handled roughly. He seemed used to the wretched treatment as if this had happened before.

"Leave him be," Aragorn said stepping forward. Both men looked his way with astonished faces. Aragorn drew up before them tall and lean and his youth evident.

The burly man still seemed confident as he crossed his thick arms. "Who do you think you are, boy?" This's no business of yours." He eyed Aragorn's height and did not apparently notice the sword upon his back. He sniffed. "Go back to your playing and leave the men to their own ventures. I'm merely serving out justice to this wretch." He turned round to continue his browbeating, yet Aragorn would not allow it to pass so easily.

"Do not touch him again, or you will regret it," he said leaving his hands free to do what he must for he knew the mind of the sturdy man. He was a fool not to see the danger building in the youth. Aragorn's voice was cold and stern which brought a relieved look to the small man's face. He at least had faith that he would be saved.

The burly man laughed and paused before throwing a mighty swing, intending to make contact with Aragorn's face. Moving swifter than mortal sight and far smoother than the other man expected, Aragorn evaded the thrust as he knocked the man to the ground with a quick boot of his foot into his stomach. He fell in a doubled heap moaning and muttering, but Aragorn did not draw his sword.

"If you were a follower of the Enemy, I would have slain you," Aragorn said leaning down and grasping the man's collar. "We do not take lightly harassing other men who have done nothing to provoke wrath or justice. Take care you do nothing of the sort again...or I shall know of it."

He stood and left before they could say or do anything. The small man ran the other way as the other slowly stood, using the wall for support. Complacency filled his heart, and he stood lighter as he entered the Prancing Pony. Men would learn that the wickedness of their hearts was not tolerable when the Rangers of the North were around. The Enemy would lose one less village to his intrigues.

* * *

Gandalf leant upon his gnarled staff and gazed on Weathertop tall and stark before him against the hazy sky. It was almost evening and the sun was already setting in a blaze of crimson and purple. The ruins of what used to be a mighty tower now stood at its head, crowned with stone.

He made his way slowly to the top to gain a view of the land about him, yet he halted abruptly when he glimpsed a still figure among the ancient ruins. At first glance it seemed a part of them, a statue, until he looked closer: it was a young man. The way he looked appeared to Gandalf a stone figure of the Kings of Arnor of old made flesh, though younger perhaps and not as richly clothed. He was garbed in dark green and brown with a cloak of grey upon his shoulders while he carried a long sword on his belt and another upon his back.

The young man turned his head, and Gandalf stared up through bushy eyebrows with great curiosity for he had longish dark hair, pale skin, and eyes that glistened from afar. So noble and handsome was his face that the old wizard began to conjure ideas of his identity. But why was he alone in the Wild at such an age in the middle of nowhere?

"Greetings, father," he called from only a few yards away. His voice was rich and deep. "You have been standing there long. Why not come and join me."

_Is he so careless?_ Gandalf thought before approaching. _Does he not know the dangers that lurk in the Wild of the North?_ But he looked again and knew it was certainly not youthful foolishness. He passed through the fallen or crumbling columns to reach the man. Gandalf's dark eyes burned like coals beneath the wide brim of his hat as he faced the youth.

"You wander alone in these lands?" Gandalf said bent beside his tall staff.

"As you do, stranger." He had grey eyes that gleamed brightly in the fading light. "It seems Amon Sûl is a fine place to stay for the night. I never thought to meet another here."

The wizard paused when he heard the youth call the hill Amon Sûl, not Weathertop. "You are learned, I see," he said studying him. "Many would have named this Weathertop, not Amon Sûl. By this...I guess you are of the Rangers of the North for they of few call it by that name and few others journey here alone."

"And so you are correct," he said bowing slightly.

"You are quite young to be of their number if I know them well."

The Ranger donned a queer smile. "Yes, it is true of me. There are many strange things of me...Gandalf the Grey."

Gandalf had been pleased by the surprise on his face when he named him of the Dúnedain, yet it was his turn to be amazed. He leaned back and pulled on his grey beard. "Is that so? How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Well," the Ranger's eyes sparkled, "I have heard much of you from both the Elves and Master Elrond who call you Mithrandir, and my kin have also spoken of you as the Grey Wanderer. You are well known among my friends and companions."

Gandalf chuckled, his voice deep and clear. "Well met, my friend! Well met indeed! You surely speak as they do in Rivendell," he glanced at the sword on his back, "and your sword is of elven make. You are a walking riddle!"

He smiled and beckoned Gandalf to follow him. "Come, my friend! Let us go out of sight for the night and share our questions and tales." The two settled in a dell in the side of the hill and chose not to build a fire to keep unfriendly eyes from spotting them. Gandalf pulled out his pipe and leaf from the Shire and began to puff contentedly on his long-stemmed pipe. The young man sat across from him.

"So, young Ranger, what is your name? You know that I am indeed Gandalf the Grey, so I would know yours."

"You are close to Elrond, yes?"

Gandalf nodded, wondering why he evaded the question.

"Has he told you of someone who dwelt in his abode as his own son for a time whom is not of the elven-kindred?"

"Perhaps."

"I remember how you were in Elrond's close confidence as no other, so I assume you know. I shall tell you who I am though many do not know that I even live."

Once he spoke in this way, Gandalf began to speculate. His guess fit the man perfectly with the way he had seemed in the ruins, his appearance in body and voice, his kinship with the Dúnedain, and his talk of Lord Elrond. Could it truly be him? The age fit when he thought upon it more carefully, and he wondered to think how the boy had grown.

"There was a young boy who was brought to Elrond many years gone, and had grown up in Rivendell until recently, half-raised by the Lore Master himself. This boy remained a secret for the Dark Lord himself wished him slain if he knew he was alive."

"The Heir of Isildur," Gandalf murmured thoughtfully looking into the man's deep grey eyes and knowing his first guess was correct.

"I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, Heir of Elendil and Chieftain of the Dúnedain," he said with a voice that held authority and brooked no argument even in his youth. He shattered the solemnity when he smiled. "Yet I am called Strider when I cannot be called by my true name in the presence of others."

"I am honoured to finally speak with the renowned man for I only caught a glimpse of you when you were but eight years of age playing amongst the trees of Imladris." He blew a ring of smoke into the cool evening air. "It is no wonder you are one of the youngest Rangers I've met." He chuckled once again in his own thought.

"I am the honoured one, Mithrandir," said Aragorn. "You are the most revered and respected of all that I have heard, and I find what others praised you for true. You are the Grey Pilgrim! Old wanderer among Men, Elves, and all Free Folk."

"So it is. I have travelled far and meddled in many causes," he said with dark eyes glittering secretively. He half-lidded his eyes and nodded with a grin. "And I'm already finding your company pleasant, Strider."

* * *

Arwen approached her father where he stood gazing out over the land in deep thought. She touched his shoulder gently. "Atar...it is time."

He pulled out of his reverie with saddened eyes. "I know. Be safe, my daughter, for the roads darken and are perilous in these shadowed days. May the blessings of the Elves go with you." He led her out into the shrouded light of day, and she left him to mount her white stallion. Her cloak blanketed its flanks in silver-grey.

"Namárië, Atar. Namárië."

The five other Elves escorting her trotted out into the trees as she followed in their midst. Elrond watched grimly as he was left behind standing tall and dark in the sunlight. The Evenstar would return to Lothlórien, the Golden Wood of great light.

* * *

Arwen felt torn between the two lands: Imladris and Lórien. Each held a special place in her heart, yet the people there did as well. Wherever she went, the Elves were heartened by her brilliant presence like a star unveiled. The journey was uneventful, yet not in the Evenstar's mind. Her mood had diminished with the darkness of the Enemy fallen upon her heart.

When she reached the Elven-kingdom and abode there for a time, Lady Galadriel perceived that her eyes no longer shone as brightly, her face was rarely graced with a smile any longer, and she spoke little in company of her kin. Galadriel had seen it many times over the long years when shadows quenched their elven-light, and they soon departed for the Grey Havens; yet she knew that was not Undómiel's fate. Perhaps it would not be so unlike her forebear Lúthien the Fair.


	4. A Meeting of Hearts

AUTHORS NOTE: I'm very glad everyone likes this story so much :). I've put some of the dialogue in a certain part is taken from the _Tale of Aragorn and Arwen _in this chapter because no one can write such powerful dialogue as Tolkien :). The translations for Elvish are at the bottom of the page too. Enjoy!

Aragorn smiled with gladness as he reached the borders of Lothlórien where the Elves dwelt in safety and peace. He stepped through the golden leaves of the mellyrn scattered upon the ground beneath the eaves of the silver trees. His eyes took in the sight as he awaited the border guardsmen to hear or see him. His keen ears caught the slightest brush of feet on the earth and looked around carefully to see the Elves. His eyes were also sharp, though not as far-sighted, and he caught the glint of golden hair in the sun beaming through the branches. Aragorn halted in his tracks.

1."Umin cotumo. Nan i Dúnadan."

The Elves came into sight with their bows in hand, but they were lowered when they heard him speak in Elvish and saw their friend standing there. There were three. One stepped forward with a smile on his face, and Aragorn and he firmly placed their hands on each others shoulders.

2."Dúnadan ar Eldandil! Márië ana centyë enapa limbë yéni," said Haldir. The two spoke as they walked to the talan where the three brothers stayed during their watch. Haldir then invited Aragorn to stay there with them.

"Nay, my friend. I must reach the city tonight for I am weary of my travels. But I thank you for your hospitality," said Aragorn. "I will stay and talk if you wish for a short time."

"Only if that is your will. I will not hinder you from going to Caras Galadhon to see the fair city again for there you will find rest and peace. Now go and pass through unhindered for you know the way, I deem," said Haldir pointing in the direction of the city of the Elves in Lórien. "Namárië till next time we meet."

Aragorn bowed and continued on his way deep into the forest to the heart of Elvendom.

* * *

When Aragorn met the Lady of the Wood and her spouse Celeborn, he bowed low.

"Welcome son of Arathorn," said Galadriel warmly. "We are honoured by your presence."

"I thank you greatly. It is an honour for me to be here in your fair realm in your protection. You do me more service than I could ever hope for," he answered.

"We shall prepare a place for you to stay as long as you wish. You must rest for your journey was toilsome, and you have been long away in Southern parts. Come..." Galadriel beckoned him with a pale hand.

Aragorn son of Arathorn was clothed in silver and white garments with a cloak of silver also. A bright gem was on his brow. Even the Lady Galadriel marvelled at how lordly he stood, though he was Edain, with his noble face gleaming with a light like the sheen of stars; yet this mortal had a bit elvish blood that was of the noblest sort and had been raised by the Fair Kindred. He was elven-wise, behaved as an Elf, and spoke as one in a fair voice. Aragorn knew the Elvish languages whether it was Sindarin or Quenya.

Galadriel watched him wander away through the trees, brushing a hand against a silvery bough as he went. She saw how his mind revealed the mannerisms of Elves when amongst the trees with the water's song in his ears. She suddenly realised that Arwen, the Evenstar of the Elves, was amidst those same trees near Cerin Amroth where Aragorn was headed. She wondered then what fate had been woven that they should meet again after so many years when Aragorn was in the glorious fullness of manhood.

"I wonder that it so happens now, when the Evenstar's light is dimmed, that he comes to our woods. Their fates are bound together," she murmured as she watched the trees' boughs waver in the wind. "No one can sever those ties now...not even Morgoth himself."

* * *

Arwen was walking through the trees, breathing in the air of them and feeling the ancient life that thrived in Lórien. She was arrayed in a dress of shining white that contrasted with her dark hair hanging about her face and down her back. Her grey eyes glimmered in the evening that had come. Thoughts ran through her mind that were more blithe than usual to bring her a small comfort in peace; like the sound of the golden leaves rustling in the breeze and the smell of the night air.

Then she saw a glint of white through the trees, moving languidly. She thought it to be an Elf, yet few often wandered the further places in the evening. Arwen had paused without realising it and began walking lightly along the grass again. She attempted to draw nearer the Elf but could not seem to catch another glimpse of him.

Suddenly his presence found her, and she was surprised at the things she felt in him. There was power and greatness there like that of Master Elrond and the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien. Could it be Lord Celeborn?

* * *

Aragorn strode through the woods with a high heart in that resplendent place. It had been a lengthy amount of time since he had visited Lothlórien, and he remembered it well. His senses suddenly grew alert for there was someone else there with him in the shadows. He turned his head and saw nothing, then turned the other way seeing nothing of note there as well. A shiver ran down his spine. He wondered at the reaction for the woods of Lórien were protected from enemies, and no evil could remain there for long.

* * *

Arwen restrained a gasp of awe when she first saw the tall man in silver and white. He appeared as an Elf-lord out of the West, so great and noble was he. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she could not move, halting in her silent steps. There was something about him that was familiar…yet different. It was as though he was of elven blood, but also of different descent.

When she realised with stark amazement who he was, it was then he felt her near him.

* * *

Aragorn now knew someone was watching him or coming towards him, so he thought of where they were and turned his keen eyes in that direction.

A maiden as fair as the morning sun and the evening stars reached out a slender white hand to alight against a tree as she glided past to make her way to him. The tree seemed to thrive with life at her touch. Her eyes were like stars themselves as they shone with wisdom pooling in the brilliant depths. The maiden's tresses were shadowy falls running down her back, and a strand gently brushed her face fairer than mortals. Aragorn had never seen anyone so stunning, and he could never forget such a face that appeared in his dreams so often. No words came to him. He could not speak while gazing upon the beautiful maiden that was now at arms-length, her eyes inquisitive.

Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Elrond, stopped and smiled, and it made him shudder at the loveliness of the brightness of it unfolding upon her face. She spoke in a silvery voice full of curiosity. "Favourable it is to meet you again, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Lord of the Dúnedain." The smile faded. "You are much changed last I saw you."

Aragorn thought he glimpsed wonder in her eyes, and he bowed before her. "Yet little changed are you, Maiden of Light. I wonder that we meet again now after so many years."

"Yes...long have I been in Rivendell and Lothlórien, though you I have not seen in all that time since you departed. You wandered the Wilds of the North?"

"I did, with my kin the Dúnedain before I journeyed further south into the lands of Men: Rohan and Gondor."

Arwen shifted closer on the cool grass. "Noble are the Men that abide there in those lands for their blood still runs true. It is grievous that the Elves and they are estranged after all these years."

"Indeed, Undómiel. Indeed."

Aragorn's eyes searched hers, silvery liquid mingling with shining stars. Arwen felt her heart was quickened and her hands restless. Never had any man found such excellence in her eyes, and Aragorn son of Arathorn appeared the greatest of lords and kings in his shining silver and glimmering white apparel.

"Would you care to walk?" Aragorn asked. He also felt his heart beating heavily in his breast as he gazed upon the maiden who had haunted his dreams with visions of shimmering starlight and golden sunlight.

She took his arm, and they continued walking. The golden leaves were scattered at their feet but hardly rustled as the two passed for they stepped without sound.

"How, then, are the Southern kingdoms of Men?" Arwen asked softly.

Aragorn glanced down at her radiant face. "Mostly well, yet hope wanes in some hearts for the days of legend are lost, and dark things are burgeoning. Ever all Free Folk fight against the Enemy, yet will Middle-earth ever be free of him?"

"Perhaps," Arwen murmured stepping over the twisting root of a towering tree. "There are too many choices ahead of too many people to see what will become of us all. Many are tied to the fate of Middle-earth." She looked up into his noble, kingly face. "You are one of them, Estel."

Aragorn nearly faltered in his step when he heard the name she called him by: the name he had been called in Rivendell until his fate was revealed to him by Elrond. To hear it from her sweet lips bestowed upon it a new meaning in his heart. "My path has been laid for all the ages of this world, and I was set to find it in my youth. If it is as you say...it will lead down a dark road."

Arwen's smile was gradual as she stopped to look at him. Their eyes met once more, and she held his intensely. Aragorn's gaze bore into hers with a kindness and care she had never felt before alongside the same strength as she possessed.

"We should return to Caras Galadhon," Arwen said quietly. "It is growing late, and the evening wanes."

Aragorn agreed and she laid her trembling arm in his once again. It stilled in the reassurance of his strong yet gentle grasp. The look in his eyes was something she would never forget, not until the ending of the world.

* * *

That night, Aragorn was given food to eat—for which he thanked the Elves—but the Elf that brought him the meal glimpsed something strange in the man's eyes that had not been present earlier.

He tilted his head in an inquisitive fashion when Aragorn set the tray on a nearby table. "Is something troubling you, Dúnadan?" he asked, hoping the man would feel comfortable enough to share his thoughts.

Aragorn looked up with wonder at how discerning the Elf was and hoped his feelings could not be often read so easily by others. He answered quickly before the Elf really believed something was wrong. "No, I am well. Thank you."

The Elf nodded and bowed before leaving Aragorn in solitude. He sighed in relief that the Elf had not inquired further into the matter. His heart ached at the thought of leaving, but eventually he would have need to return to the North. He wondered if the fair Evenstar was staying much longer or if she would ever leave Lothlórien. He had planned to stay in Rivendell for a time, yet he wondered if his plans would change now that the circumstances became known to him.

All he could think of was Arwen Undómiel that night, depriving him of rest, and he ate little. When he finally fell asleep, his rest was dreamless and without comfort.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and golden with voices of the Elves singing of the sun's rising filling the crisp air. The sun sent her rays through the silver branches and into many dwellings, brightening the woods. Aragorn woke early that day and was again brought food. He smiled warmly before taking the elvish bread with him down to the earth where he walked again through the wood that filled him with such peace and hope. There he greeted many Elves in their own tongue and held converse with them for some time. He felt strangely at home here differently than in the stone walls and buildings of Minas Tirith where he had last dwelt. Though it was his destiny to rule and live there when the time came, he did not know how he would endure it for the rest of his life to not be able to take rest and enjoyment in the lands of the Elves.

He stumbled by chance upon the Evenstar who sat on a tree root that made a curving seat, watching the sun rise with a cluster of grapes in her hand: the remains of breakfast. She appeared so ethereal in the sunlight that Aragorn could not approach her at first. There was no need. Arwen caught sight of him first. She smiled and beckoned him to sit beside her on the large root as she moved over, which gave Aragorn a peculiar feeling for the other Elves glanced at the two with interest. It was not common to find one of the Edain in close company with one of the most renowned and most beautiful of the Elves.

Arwen turned to look upon him, seeing his sharp eyes looking out over the land. She saw his longish dark hair lying still about his handsome face without the breeze breathing through it and studied him to make sure she would never forget; though she doubted such a thing would ever occur within her heart after the decision she had made.

She quickly turned away before he noticed her gaze lingering too long and said softly, "How long shall you stay here in Lórien?"

"For now...I do not know. Time passes swiftly here, and I cannot follow as well as in the lands of Men. There time is commonly predictable."

"Is Gondor a fair land?" asked Arwen.

Aragorn saw before him a vision of pale majesty in white stone built as strong as the mountains where it was placed and lofty towers and fortresses of great girth. Impregnable were the high walls harbouring the great city, yet once one had seen the city for long years, the signs of decay began to seep through. Minas Tirith was the fairest and mightiest city of Men, yet slowly time crept into the cracks of stone and dark corners of walls. The white banner of the Stewards flew upon the great height of the Tower of Ecthelion glimmering in the shining sun, but it was not the banner of Kings that had flown of old when the Throne was occupied.

Aragorn described Minas Tirith and its proud levels to Arwen as he thought an Elvish minstrel might, and he glimpsed a sparkle of wonder glaze her eyes.

"Wondrous are your words, Estel, for you speak as the Elves do in song. I have seen Minas Tirith in a vision of your speech. If I come to that resplendent city, blessed will my days be."

They sat in each other's company for some time in silence. The sun now rose high above the earth, her golden orb glowing with heat. Nonetheless, the heat was not too much to bear in Lórien. The air was temperate most often if not cold with winter.

"Estel, I must leave you for now," said Arwen after their time watching the sun rise into the clear blue sky, "for I must speak with Lady Galadriel. I shall surely see you again...perhaps later today as well. Come and dine at the Lord and Lady's table tonight for it would grace the grand hall to have you with us."

"I shall if you wish it," he said standing after she had. He bowed low and found her watching with shining, esteem-filled eyes of grey. Before she left, she looked deep into his eyes and smiled softly. Aragorn released the breath he had been holding while she held his gaze and watched her recede into the distance to find Galadriel, Lady of the Wood. Something had changed in her demeanour that had not been present before when he first met her; and it was certainly for the better in his mind.

_

* * *

1.I am no enemy. I am the Dúnadan._

_2.Dúnadan and Elf-friend! It is good to see you after many years._


	5. Cerin Amroth

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Actually THIS is the chapter with Tolkien's dialogue in it :). whoops! and it also has the song that Legolas sings in Lothlórien in the _Fellowship of the Ring_. Thanks again for all the great reviews:) It really makes me want to keep writing.

* * *

Arwen was thinking deeply of her brief time spent with Aragorn son of Arathorn and how he had been as a new star that bloomed in the heavens when she thought all others were lost. When she had seen the tremendous change in his body and mind, with a shining countenance most apparent, her steps on the paths of life had faltered. She knew her foresight had not failed her once she made her decision as she walked beside the mighty mortal. He was set for great things if he only made the right choice when the time came.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a musical voice.

"Arwen!" it called from behind. "I have not seen you of late."

She turned slowly to find an Elf called Cemendur approaching from behind whom she had met when she first came to the Golden Wood. "Cemendur," she said softly, "it is well to see you again."

"Yes," he said standing before her, "and well for me to once again gaze upon the fairest that now lives." His blue eyes searched hers for a silent moment, and he frowned slightly. "Pleasing is your company, and yet I sense something changed in you than when I first met you not long ago. Perhaps I am only imagining it..."

"Perhaps," said Arwen concealing a smile. "Things are for the better if I am differed in some way. I must go to meet with Galadriel for she has called me to her this day. Till we meet again, my friend."

Galadriel turned when Arwen came to where she stood by a bright fountain, its sparkling water singing softly as it tumbled down the stone sculpture of a fair Elven-maid with hair swirling down to her unshod feet.

A faint smile touched Galadriel's flushed lips. "I am glad you have come, Undómiel. There is much to be said."

Arwen slowed once she came beside the fell maiden of her kin. "Yet little needs be said. The world darkens and a shadow falls upon my heart."

"As I have seen, dear one. Oft you walk abroad without a light kindled in your eyes or a smile upon your lips. Kind are your words as always, yet...hope is dwindling in your soul and the Shadow of the Enemy has touched your spirit." Galadriel looked then with shining blue eyes into Arwen's, silver and glimmering as the fountain water reflected brightly in their depths. "But there is something that has risen anew in you." An expression of confusion crossed her face. "I had not seen it before."

"Hope has filled my heart, and I am content," said Arwen looking out into the wood where leaves flickered golden and the silver bark of the mellyrn glistened in the soft sunlight caressing the earth. "The Enemy grows in power, yet I shall not allow it to darken my eyes."

Galadriel watched in amaze as Arwen's countenance transformed from despair and withdrawing to renewal and silver light. Something had brought a change—or someone—and the Elven-queen wondered who or what could do such a wondrous marvel.

"Then perhaps you should go on your way," she murmured, feeling a sense of peace come upon her now that all was well. "I shall not trouble you with Middle-earth's trials."

Arwen bid her farewell with a light kiss on her cheek and departed from the enclosure with a high heart and soaring spirit. Galadriel sighed and turned back to the glittering water falling from the fountain's head.

* * *

Arwen came to the stream of Nimrodel who was named after a fair maiden of old. She sat down there as she slipped her feet in the cool water as clear as the stars. The Lay of Nimrodel came to her as she had heard it in her life past: 

_An Elven-maid there was of old,_  
_A shining star by day:  
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,  
Her shoes of silver-grey.  
A star was bound upon her brows,  
A light was on her hair  
As sun upon the golden boughs  
In Lórien the fair.  
Her hair was long, her limbs were white,  
And fair she was and free;  
And in the wind she went as light  
As leaf of linden-tree.  
Beside water clear and cool,  
Her voice as falling silver fell  
Into the shining pool.  
Where now she wonders none can tell,  
In sunlight or in shade;  
For lost of yore was Nimrodel  
And in the mountains strayed.  
The elven-ships in haven grey  
Beneath the mountain-lee  
Awaited her for many a day  
Beside the roaring sea.  
A wind by night in Northern lands  
Arose, and loud it cried,  
And drove the ship from elven-strands  
Across the streaming tide.  
When dawn came dim the land was lost,  
The mountains sinking grey  
Beyond the heaving waves that tossed  
Their plumes of blinding spray.  
Amroth beheld the fading shore  
Now low beyond the swell,  
And cursed the faithless ship that bore  
Him far from Nimrodel.  
Of old he was an Elven-king,  
A lord of tree and glen,  
When golden were the boughs in spring  
In fair Lothlórien.  
From helm to sea they saw him leap,  
As arrow from the string,  
And dive into the waters deep,  
As mew upon the wing.  
The wind was in his flowing hair,  
The foam about him shone;  
Afar they saw him strong and fair  
Go riding like a swan.  
But from the West has come no word,  
And on the Hither Shore  
No tidings Elven-folk have heard  
Of Amroth evermore._

Her voice lifted up above the rushing of the stream and filled the air with a sweetness of light. The sound was a beauty so radiant that all who heard stopped to listen. One of these was Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain who walked among the trees. His heart leaped at the sound of the voice that blended with the waters. He went in search of the minstrel while it still lasted to find that Arwen Undómiel was sitting with her white feet in the waters of Nimrodel. She had just ended the song. Arwen did not hear him for his feet were light as the Elves as she sang. She now traced a pattern with her slender finger in the water, and her eyes gleamed.

Aragorn gazed at her for a moment before speaking. "I did not know you knew that song so well," he said in his low but soothing voice, a light Elvish-ring glinting on the edges. "Neither have I heard it sung so beautifully."

She swivelled around to see him. Her eyes brightened at the sight of him standing there watching. "Estel, I did not hear you. You truly have learned from the Elves who raised you in Rivendell; but I felt you there for you are not easily missed."

He smiled, gracing his face with an even warmer appearance. "Yes, I have learned from them well."

"Then come and sit with me. I enjoy your company," said Arwen looking up at him.

Aragorn stepped out from under the trees to sit beside the maiden fairer by far than even Nimrodel of song. The sound of the water was sweet and pleasant to the ear, giving one a desire to close their eyes to listen more carefully.

"Slip off your shoes and put your feet in. Nimrodel's waters renew the weary feet that travel far, removing the stain of journeys passing through the years."

Aragorn hesitated but eventually removed his polished boots, gifted to him by Galadriel, to stick his long feet in the pristine waters of the river where the waves shimmered in the sunlight. Arwen was right about the feel of it. It soothed his feet as though they were soaking in waters created with pure respite. Arwen laughed softly when she saw him. He had closed his eyes as the water touched his feet and a look of repose came over his face.

"It feels good, does it not?"

"Yes...it does," Aragorn smiled with his eyes still closed lightly, shadows casting strange light through the darkness. Arwen studied his strong face. The years were not laid upon him as most of his own kin for he was of the line of kings who lived many years longer than common Men. There was wisdom and care in the lines that chiselled his features; something that did not show in most Elves and also a thing that Arwen was drawn to in him. Elves usually did not show much emotion in their faces. It was usually in their voices.

When he opened his eyes he found them drawn to the Evenstar's shining face cast about with warm light. "What will happen I wonder?" said Aragorn quietly. "The darkness grows but there is light that still shines in that darkness. Who will obtain the victory?"

Arwen was surprised that his thoughts ran along the same path as her own. "The light shall prevail. Not unless Eru wills it will darkness succeed or cover all light. Ilúvatar has everything in his hands even if we do not perceive it with our own eyes. Do not fear for your people who are dwindling daily. They shall become strong again as in ages past...some day. Perhaps you will be the one to lead them to it."

Aragorn was bewildered to hear her speak so and gazed at her with question in his eyes. "How do you know that is what I spoke of: my kindred?"

She smiled as though she knew a secret he did not. "I know your mind well enough to guess on matters, though we have not been in one another's presence long. Do not wonder for many of the Elves—and Half-elven—have the gift of foresight as do the line of Kings of your kin; many of them anyway."

He stared at her briefly, then watched the water flow over his feet beside hers. She saw where his gaze travelled and looked there also: both their feet pale and now seeming to be alive with the flow of water rushing over.

Arwen broke the silence in a hardly audible voice. "You are not the only one who fears the future, Aragorn. I too fear what will happen and the shadow that grows for I have never known such in my life."

Aragorn looked on her with care and reached out to her face fairer than mortals. His fingertips caressed her cheek lightly then stayed. 1."I huinë níra palya mimma hendi nan lala mimma honi."

His words struck her heart as she closed her eyes at his touch and put her hand on his in reassurance. Aragorn was most assuredly right. Deep inside it would not darken their hearts. Arwen opened her eyes to find the Heir of Kings gazing upon her with a brilliant countenance where his eyes held hers. They were elven-wise, radiant as stars, and full of devotion mightier than the roots of the mountains. The decision of her heart resounded inside of her, and she knew her choice was set in stone.

* * *

Arwen had her own talan high in the trees surrounded by leaves of gold and blossoms of yellow, and it was not far from the great hall of Celeborn and Galadriel. She smiled when she brought up the memory of Aragorn and her pledging themselves to one another from only a few days ago. Before then, they had spent almost all their time together, but now were in each other's presence at every moment. 

Her thoughts were broken when someone knocked gently on the wood beside the doorway where it was only a drapery of beaded fabric made by the Elves. She hurried to the door to find Aragorn standing outside.

"Do you wish to enter?" she asked, granting him a rare smile. Even in greens, blues, or other colours besides white he still appeared a mighty Elf-lord stepped out of song.

"Undómiel..." he said stepping inside, letting the curtain fall back into place. "I know it is not completely well for a man to enter a maiden's quarters, yet...we must speak."

"Of course. I understand." Her eyes dimmed for she had a notion of what he wished to speak of. He had been in Lórien long now, perhaps too long.

He grasped her hands. "It is time. I must depart to the North for I am needed among my kindred. My heart will ever dwell here, yet my feet must tread other ground until I come again in darker times."

Arwen held tightly to his hands and looked down. "I knew the day would come," she looked up, "but it is finally arrived, and I am grieved. As soon as you leave...my heart shall go with you."

"And may our parting be not long," Aragorn murmured meeting her gaze.

She sighed. "Yet I fear it will be, that we shall be sundered for many long years as before."

They descended the many stairs curled around the tree, a pair surrounded by a soft, gleaming light to the trained eye. On they went until they began to climb the hill of Cerin Amroth where the glinting niphredil and golden elanor shone like stars among the grass. Once they reached the crown of the hill, they stood close at each other's side looking over the lands from that high place. There they were promised to one another with a great gladness.

"Dark is the Shadow, and yet my heart rejoices; for you, Estel, shall be among the great whose valour will destroy it," said Arwen grasping his hands in hers and gazing up into his eyes.

"Alas! I cannot foresee it, and how it may come to pass is hidden from me. Yet with your hope I will hope. And the Shadow I utterly reject. But neither, lady, is the Twilight for me; for I a mortal, and if you will cleave to me, Evenstar, then the Twilight you must also renounce." His voice was gentle and earnest, falling upon her ears like a warm wind from the South.

Arwen stood still as a white tree, looking into the West, and at last she said, "I will cleave to you, Dúnadan, and turn from the Twilight. Yet there lies the land of my people and the long home of all my kin...I will wait," she said. "There will be many years we are parted, yet I will wait for you though it be a hundred years more."

"As will I," said Aragorn leaning down. He kissed her lightly, and she looked up into his eyes with surprise and wonder. He slipped the Ring he bore upon his hand from his finger.

She gazed upon it then and knew its name. "The Ring of Barahir."

"I give it to you," he said gently placing it in her hand that he had grasped. "It is the gift of my love for there is no greater thing I could give unto you other than my heart which you have already taken."

Her eyes shone as she slipped it upon her hand. "I have also given you my greatest possession: my love. And I can thank you with nothing less."

Then they stood together and were glad for love is greater than all wickedness in the world and cannot be dimmed so easily. Not even death can break it.

* * *

Arwen lay on a bed of soft cushions in her dwelling, her cheeks wet with tears. Her heart was rent with the leaving of the leader of the Edain who had become dearer to her than life itself. Something inside calmed her soul to keep her from weeping for she thought of the years ahead when they would surely meet again. Everything had come crashing down upon her: Aragorn's departure, her decision to remain in Middle-earth and become mortal, and the crumbling of all that was bright and good as the Shadow appeared again to trouble all Free Folk. 

Arwen stood to look out upon the city of Caras Galadhon. The night had come like a wave of darkness; the stars the only light save the silver and gold lamps of the Elves that glimmered in the dark. From where she stood, she could see the talan with the large hall built upon it where Celeborn and Galadriel dwelt.

When she alighted the stairs to go sit at the fountain which brought visions of Valinor and the Undying Lands, a wind came suddenly out of the North, cool and fresh. It almost seemed a sign she was in Aragorn's thoughts as he journeyed. She did not intend to stay long for the night had come, but someone came up behind her and stood beside her. Arwen did not look up, so the Elf cleared his throat quietly and spoke.

"Arwen, you seemed troubled."

Arwen raised her eyes at last to find Cemendur standing beside her and looking down upon her with true concern. His eyes held traces of worry. She sighed lightly inside. Perhaps Cemendur would provide company in times of darkness when the one who had was gone. "Yes, Cemendur, I am troubled. But I will not tell you why for fear of revealing too much," she said, turning her attention back to the luminous water. The light of it reflected and shimmered in her eyes.

Cemendur felt pity for the beautiful maiden for his heart was downcast at seeing such beauty turned to despair. _One as fair as she should not suffer in this manner. What could I do for her? Surely she does not have the same opinion in everything with me as I have perceived, so it is clear she would not desire to speak with me for long_.

"If there is anything I can do for you, please ask me to do so for I feel grief only by looking at your sorrow."

She smiled grimly, meeting his gaze. "There is nothing but to be in my company when I need it most, my friend. None can comfort me now for I have attained great loss this very day."

Cemendur nodded though he did not completely understand and smiled upon her. "Then I shall do what you request. You only need ask it of me and I shall come to your side at once."

_

* * *

1. The Shadow will spread within our eyes but not within our hearts. _


	6. The Sundering

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks once again for the lovely reviews!. Don't worry Tinúviel Undómiel...there will be plenty of romance later :). Lindahoyland: thanks so much! I hope to write many more stories in time, but I might be a little slow when high school starts up again :D. Here's chapter 6!

* * *

Elrond greeted the man he called a son warmly. "Aragorn, you have returned at last! It has been long."

"Indeed," Aragorn smiled. "I am glad to return. It will be a long tale to tell of what I have done in all these years."

"And I shall be glad to hear of it," said Elrond. His piercing gaze moved to join Aragorn's, who knew he would learn of Arwen's choice if he discerned it in his eyes. He stood erect, prepared for whatever would come of Elrond's discovery. "Many things have happened in all this time. Many things." Elrond's voice was cool and serene, yet Aragorn sighed for he had seen something he was not pleased with.

"Too many to be short with. Perhaps tonight we shall speak."

"It would make a fine tale in the Hall of Fire," said Elrond.

Aragorn nodded and felt the mood shift about them. Elrond was no longer concentrating on the present. "Forget the future," Aragorn murmured. "There are many years yet." Elrond had a strange expression on his immortal face but said nothing. "I must leave you now and rest from my journeys, though I will not be here long for I must again go into the Wild where I belong. Till later, Lord Elrond."

Aragorn bowed and walked away without looking back. Elrond stood in the sunlit corridor, eyes sad and heart heavy. It would be some time before his smile returned or he spoke freely for he was often silent afterwards. Aragorn felt sorrowful for the man he called his father, yet his heart was bursting with a joy unquenchable. He donned fresh apparel and went in search of Gilraen his mother.

* * *

Gilraen heard of her son's arrival after all his years in Rohan and Gondor. She walked patiently in one of the countless rooms that were open fully to the outside. A light breeze blew through with a sweet fragrance borne aloft on its wings. She turned and saw that Aragorn had approached without a sound.

He smiled down upon her with tenderness filling his eyes. "Dear mother, it is good to see you again," he said sitting in a chair at her side. "I thought of you while I stood upon Minas Tirith's white ramparts overlooking the fair land. You would have loved to see the magnificent city of our kin of old."

Her smile was slight and dim. "Yet often I must put such thoughts aside for I am old and worn. There will be no more journeys for me."

Aragorn's smile faltered. "You speak darkly. You have yet many years to live. Do not foresee such despairing things for your own sake."

She shook her head and sighed. "I feel it, Aragorn. I feel it more than ever. My years will not be as long as most." She looked up into her son's grey eyes. "But come! Let us hear of you." Gilraen loved her son dearly for she looked upon him and saw a mighty man of valour, courage, and strength. He was the pride of her life, and she heard often the praise of Elves saying how exceptional he was. Though he was a man in appearance, he was an Elf at heart and behaved as one even among Men. Never had such a thing happened since the days of Tuor who is said to have been granted a place on a ship to Aman long ages ago when the world was young and the lands unchanged. And so the Elves—even the immortal kin!—respected him as they would the great wise ones of the age. Gilraen placed a wrinkling hand upon his, smooth and yet untouched by time.

"Mother, there are many Men still worthy of song in the Southern realms! I have walked among mighty soldiers and captains, sat with wise elders and sages, and celebrated with merry-hearted men and women. I have found that the lesser race is not so weakened as they are spoken of. Hope and courage still linger in Gondor and Rohan."

"Before you came, did they? Before you encouraged them with your sword, did it?" said Gilraen. She witnessed the extraordinary effect Aragorn had had on others when he was present. His confident, unwavering gaze eased beating hearts, his tempered mood calmed flailing emotions, and his strong will led the frail feet. He hung his head and was silent. Gilraen squeezed his hand and smiled adoringly upon him. "You bring hope and joy with you wherever you go, my son. If the men in Rohan and Gondor are holding to these things...it is because of your message to them as you fought and walked among them. They were encouraged at the sight of you alone, and their enemies quailed at your footsteps. Have you not yet realised who you are?"

"I know who I am," he said in a voice that could have been Elendil himself, "if only because of you."

Gilraen was taken aback by his answer, yet it brought tears to her eyes. "My Estel, my dear Estel." She grasped his hand even tighter and held back the tide of weeping of bittersweet joy.

"I will never forget what you have done, dear mother. Never. Yet...the men in Gondor and Rohan clung to their hope even before I came out of the North. I only strengthened it."

"You never fail to lift my spirits," she sighed. Then she looked again in his face and remembered something. "You stayed long in Lothlórien, my son. Is it as magnificent as they say?"

"Even more," he said, suddenly knowing that he would have to tell her of what had occurred in that bright place. "It was made fairer than ever by one who trod there."

Gilraen's eyes pooled with worry. "She was there, was she not? You again met beneath the trees and spoke to one another?"

"Yes." He turned his attention to the view from where he sat. "She is as the brightest star in the heavens. The birds sing in her presence, the trees whisper as she walks past in the wind that gently touches her face, and the flowers bloom when she is near. There is none like unto her in this day and never will be again."

"She has made her decision; she has cloven unto you," said Gilraen. He smiled sadly and told her what had passed between them in the elven-kingdom. Gilraen sighed when he had finished and slipped her hand from his. "Elrond will not be pleased by this news."

"He already knows for once he set eyes upon me...he knew."

"Then you must speak with him, Aragorn. You must finish this at last."

* * *

Aragorn had no need to go to Elrond, for the Lord of Rivendell later called him to his study. Aragorn approached with an anxious heart, yet without dread. Elrond loved the Ranger as a son even though he had taken that which was most precious to him in all of Middle-earth, and so would not be wounded overlong.

Elrond looked up slowly when Aragorn approached him where he stood gazing upon an image of Elendil and Gil-galad side by side before the great battle of the Last Alliance. His face was set as in stone, weary and distraught. "My son, years come when hope will fade, and beyond them little is clear to me. And now a shadow lies between us. Maybe, it has been appointed so, that by my loss the kingship of Men may be restored. Therefore, though I love you, I say to you: Arwen Undómiel shall not diminish her life's grace for less cause. She shall not be the bride of any Man less than the King of both Gondor and Arnor. To me then even our victory can bring only sorrow and parting—but to you hope of joy for a while. Alas, my son! I fear that to Arwen the Doom of Men may seem hard at the ending."

Aragorn stood silent and could not say a word. He looked down and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"You may go," said Elrond softly.

Aragorn nodded and turned to leave at once for he knew Elrond needed time by himself to fully realise the situation. He glanced over his shoulder once more before he left his father. The following day, Aragorn departed Imladris to continue in the fight against the Dark Lord and all evil creatures and men of Middle-earth.

* * *

Galadriel was in the company of Arwen near where Galadriel's Mirror stood, and she glanced at the rippling basin. It was clear water that glittered in the light that was not only rays of the sun; it was an elven-light, that illuminated the woods of Lothlórien, mingled with sunlight and reflection off crystal water.

Arwen sat on a root of a tree which curved around to serve as a seat near the clear basin of Galadriel. She had always felt discomfited by the water of the mirror, though she could never explain just why in her mind.

Galadriel looked at her curiously and asked, "Do you remember well the tales of Valinor? I still dream of the white shores coated in snowy foam from the crashing of the waves that were a colour beyond description that shimmered in the light that surrounded the Undying Lands; yet it was not the light of the sun or moon. The stars perhaps. There was another source of light that I see in my mind every night. Its beauty was so great that I can hardly think of it without a feeling of mirth purer than the waters of Lórien."

Arwen felt herself move out of that place and see Aman once more as she always had pictured it. A shimmering form moved across the sandy shore, swathed in shining light. It was an elven-maid with pale hair and bright eyes brimming with love. It was such a beautiful sight that Arwen fell into joyful weeping mingled with tears of vast sorrow for it was her mother standing there as she ran towards her as fast as her feet could carry her. Suddenly the image vanished, and the sunlight of Middle-earth caressed her white face. But even then she shuddered.

Galadriel was sitting beside Arwen with her slim arm round her shoulders in comfort for she had seen the look in Arwen's shining eyes. "I should never have broached the subject. It has brought you grief knowing that there is a choice before you; depart the shores of Middle-earth and see those bright shores...or remain here," said Galadriel.

"No, I have already made that choice," Arwen answered. She stood and began walking away. "What you read was that you have reminded me of the consequences."

* * *

Two more years had passed in Middle-earth since Arwen Undómiel had sojourned in Lothlórien with her friend, counsellor, and kin the Lady Galadriel. It was a long two years for her though she was of elvish form at the time. Arwen remained solitary most of her days there, yet sometimes was in company with Galadriel, Celeborn, or the Elves that had accompanied her when she first arrived long ago. They still were with her for they had no need to be in Rivendell. Now there was a pressing upon her heart to return.

Arwen, Evenstar of her people, went and met with Galadriel. "I feel the need to leave this place again and go to the land of Imladris. There will my heart ever rest, I fear, and will always return in the North. May I take leave of you now?" she said.

Galadriel nodded her head sadly. "I will miss your company, dear maiden and kin." Galadriel loved Arwen as she had loved her own daughter Celebrían, and so she was there to see them off the following day. Arwen was to be accompanied by the same Elves from the first journey to the Golden Wood. Their passage would be a long one but not always perilous. Arwen hoped there would be no trouble, and the others wished for the same.

"I will see you again, Lady Galadriel, before my fate finds me and brings me to the place I will remain until the end of my days."

"The little you will have," Galadriel said sorrowfully, fingering a soft, white blossom of niphredil in her pale hands. They were only just beginning to bloom in full. "I fear your choice will bring much pain."

"And joy. You do not know the depth of love and gladness in my heart for the love of Aragorn. This place reminds me of him each time I come here to Cerin Amroth." She sighed and murmured, "What is his fate?"

"To rule the lands of Men and Middle-earth, but if he comes to it is another question. There are many decisions in his path, and I do not know what will come of them in the end." Galadriel looked to the East and shuddered. She rarely showed such outward emotion. "The Darkness spreads as the lands in the East grow ever more dangerous to roam."

Arwen's grey eyes darkened at mention of the shadowed East. "Aragorn will wander those lands searching for...something someday. I fear for him."

Galadriel clutched one of her hands comfortingly, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You have made a wise decision, Evenstar. The Heir of Isildur is the greatest of Men and mingles his kinship with the Elves the more so every time I see him. If it is not in his face, it is in his eyes and voice. I wonder more young maidens did not have their hearts captured."

"They might have, yet few would dare mention such a thing be they of Elven kind. Few are there of the Elven race that would give up their gift of everlasting life and chance to sail to a land unmarred," Arwen said, lowering her eyes to stare at the soft grass beneath her unshod feet. A sweet breeze blew a strand of shadowy hair into her face as it stirred the tree branches around them. She tucked it behind an elegant, pointed ear with hands as pale as Galadriel's. Arwen stooped to lift one of the white flowers from the green earth into the palm of her right hand.

"The niphredil first bloomed at the coming of the Nightingale when she left her mother's womb in Doriath," Galadriel whispered into the wind. Arwen nodded, letting the bloom go. It was carried away by the wind into the trees.

"I ought to go. Elrond wishes for me, and I must go to him. Namárië Altáriel." She lighted down the emerald hill of Cerin Amroth to depart for many long years.

Galadriel watched her go and murmured, "And the niphredil shall leave this world once the next Nightingale passes away beyond the circles of this world as the first also gave up her immortality." The words of Melian of the Maiar echoed through her mind as clear as yesterday.

* * *

Galadriel bid farewell with words of blessing as they mounted their saddleless horses. They were also given the elvish waybread called lembas; or in the ancient tongue coimas. This was a sign of close friendship for the keeper of the waybread of the Elves did not bestow it heedlessly.

Arwen smiled as they rode out past the borders of Lórien and were no longer under their protection from enemies. They were on their own and would have to defend themselves if trouble surfaced.

"We will go over the pass of Caradhras," said Falastur, the leader of the Elves. "It is the shortest and safest route; if you could call it safe. I believe you all know the rest of the way we shall take."

Arwen wore a mantle of lilac with silver detail along its length with the hood shrouding her face. She looked down or to the sides most of the journey so if anyone caught sight of the passing company of Elves they would not become aware of her. Elrond and others thought it best for Arwen Undómiel to remain unseen from the rest of the world.

The journey went without hindrance for the following days until at a time when they came down from the mountain of Caradhras. There trouble met them. They were camped at its feet where large boulders were strewn about, and in-between these they sat mostly hidden from view. They also were aided by their elven-cloaks of an exceptional material that blended with the colours of earth, acting as a camouflage from friends and enemies alike.

"My lady, we are not far now from the valley of Rivendell...I also feel its pull on my heart."

Arwen looked up when Falastur approached her where she stood gazing over the flat land. She smiled warmly. "I am glad, for I hoped I was not alone in the matter and forced you all to leave Lórien; for I know you must also take pleasure there as much as do I."

"Yes, as do the others with us. It is a blessing to be able to see our kin again that we have not in some time. Someday I will return for longer years perhaps."

The foresight of Arwen's kin came upon her. "As will I, but you will never return to Imladris once you go there again in the time you live."

The Elf looked upon her carefully and confusion was in his eyes. He turned and walked away in silence, his head bowed. Arwen watched him with a keen gaze. His future held a foreboding that grieved her to see. She lowered her head to pray silently that the Valar would spare him as a feeling of dread fell upon her spirit and the sky darkened.


	7. Return to Rivendell

The meagre fire Arwen's escort had built began to burn low for the night crept on in short time, and the moon rose barely above the earth; the bright orb was glowing in its full. Arwen stood secluded from the others, wandering in her own pondering thoughts. Her mind rested on one man whom she wished was there at that moment more than anyone else in Middle-earth or beyond. The one she loved was far-off wandering the Wild, guarding those whom he cared for, and growing stronger and greater than any before him in his bloodline since Elendil himself. Arwen's thoughts watched over him in his path.

Piercing howls shattered the stillness, sending a great tumult into the quiet of the night. In the fading firelight, Arwen shuddered at the sound and felt her hand move instantly to the hilt of the short knife that hung at her side, gleaming coldly in the moonlight. She had been hoping there would be no need for the blade on any of her journeys, yet now she had a strange feeling of foreboding that had fallen upon her with the howling of the wolves.

The other Elves were alerted immediately at the clamorous sound, their hands also reaching for their weapons. Falastur unslung his bow in one movement of cat-like grace and drew up an arrow to the string. He looked on all sides with his sharp eyes searching for the source of the awful noise.

Arwen moved to draw closer. "I fear we may have use of our weapons before the night is over," she said quietly. "There is trouble stirring. I can feel it."

"I can hear it. Those wolves shall soon be moving in our direction, if I know rightly. They have dreadfully good senses."

"If so, they should have sense enough not to come near us this night, or they shall reach their end...or come nearer than they ever wished; but there is something else that disturbs me, and I do not think it is the wolves. There is something else out this night that is far worse than evil beasts of the wood."

Falastur was silent for a moment before agreeing. It seemed to Arwen that he felt it also after listening to the night wind that blew chill from the North. The other Elves heard their words and also knew the wolves would not bother them, nor any beast of the earth. It was something else that was close at hand and sure to attack the small company of fair Elves.

Arwen closed her eyes to listen more closely. "Be silent!" Her eyes opened. "I can hear an unusual noise drawing near: it is like the clatter of steel upon steel. I fear it is a band of wretched Orcs we must slay tonight."

"Yes, I see now. I can feel their terrible presence as they move closer to us," said Falastur, shuddering.

Another Elf drew close to him. "What shall we do if they are too many? Yes...they have a great number," he said. He stood erect as a stone pillar gazing out into the shadows of night.

"We will fight against them as best as we are able and use whatever we have even if it means dying for the Evenstar's sake. She must not be captured, harmed, or found. Do not let any of the Orcs see her and live." Falastur's voice was fell to hear upon the air and fear would have shaken their hearts if the Orcs were close enough to hear it. "They will wish they never came this way tonight." Falastur strung the arrow in his hand to his bow as did two other Elves of the company. The last few held knives or swords at hand in case the Orcs came upon them unexpected in the dark.

1. "Tulielto!" cried one of the Elves.

Two Orcs suddenly leaped out of the dark with their armour glistening hideously in the moonlight. They rushed forward for they had known of the presence of the Elves. But they soon dropped to the ground, slain from the swift arrows released upon them. They were not the only ones, of course, for there were many more following behind and ten more took their place almost immediately…and many more after that. They moved rapidly towards their prey. There appeared more Orcs from the shadows, so they soon numbered twenty-five or thirty. They even had a captain in their midst with burly arms and legs who stood taller than the rest.

They seemed intimidating to the eyes of lesser folk, yet the Elves feared them not and slaughtered their numbers without hindrance after a short portion of an hour when their captain was finally killed. All the Elves were unharmed…except one. There had been archers in among the orcs, and one alone had hit its mark. The Elf sat against one of the large boulders with a blunt arrow between his ribs.

Arwen knelt before him and reached out to the arrow, but he grasped her hand. "Please my lady, let one of the others," he said in a hushed voice. His face was abnormally pale, and Arwen felt pity for him.

She refused his request. "I will not, my friend, for there is the gift of healing in my blood of which I have fulfilled many times. I have learnt from my father, Lord Elrond, who is known for his healing power. You shall rest in peace once I remove the arrow for I see it is not poisoned as those they sometimes use. You are indeed blessed."

Falastur knelt as well. "Arwen, let me."

She heard but ignored. She took the arrow firmly in her hand and closed her eyes as she put her other hand against his chest near the wound. The Elf let out a quiet cry of pain when she removed it with one swift jerk. He gritted his teeth and lowered his head to his chest.

"There...we shall bind the wound for you to heal quicker. Bring me clear water and binding. We must hurry to cleanse the wound for we know not what the arrow had upon it besides poison." Arwen took the water and poured a little where the arrow went in before she wet the cloth. After a short time it was cleansed and bound skilfully by the hands of the elf-maiden. In her hands was healing for it was in her blood of high lineage, and many Elves had the gift from the start.

The Elf thanked her softly as he stood slowly from the hard ground. Arwen held his arm in case he grew light-headed from the loss of blood. "Falastur, we must move on now, I fear, though his hurt should be rested. It will heal in time. Come, let us go lest more enemies befall us this dawn. The sun shall guide our path along the way to Imladris," she said.

Arwen drew the cowl of her cloak over her head again, and they were on their way. The journey was a smooth one from then on with no hindrances to slow them. The weather showed improvement, though the harsh wind still blew in defiance against the small escort.

* * *

It was in the midst of the day when they reached the Last Homely House of Master Elrond. The sun was high in the sky looking down on them with its rays shrouding them in warmth. Arwen uncovered her head once more since they were in the boundaries of Rivendell. The dark locks of her hair stirred in the breeze, shimmering in the light. Her pale skin was bright as the streaming waters in the sun, smooth and radiant. 

"Home at last," Falastur said under his breath.

"I miss the gardens and waters of Rivendell when in Lórien," Arwen said to him. "Though they are both two of the last elven-dwellings, Lothlórien and Imladris are unlike in many ways."

Falastur nodded. "Both of them are a sort of home to my heart yet in different ways as well."

Soon they were met by Elves who took their horses to be cared for and led them in to where they could rest from their long journey. They were made welcome again and were immediately recognised when seen moving through the trees on horses of Rivendell. Arwen thanked the Elves that had accompanied her. She especially spoke with the Elf she had healed of the Orc-arrow wound who was almost completely recovered for the arrow had not been poisoned like the fated one which struck Celebrían, wedded one of Master Elrond and daughter of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Arwen dwelt on her mother and the fond memories of their time spent together. She only wished she could have remained long enough to know she had found her beloved for whom she had waited many long years.

Later that day, Elrond came to her where she sat reading in flickering candlelight.

She smiled up at him. "Father! It is well to see you again."

"And am I glad to see you as well, my daughter."

She stood and embraced him tightly after seeing the distant, anguished glaze in his eyes. He most assuredly knew of her choice made final in the golden forests of Lothlórien. She guessed that Aragorn had already told him.

Elrond stroked her dark hair as he felt a lump form in his throat. The pain of losing his only daughter was too heavy a burden to bear on his own, and he stemmed the tide of mourning for another day when the time truly came when they would part forever.

Arwen spoke softly, still unyielding in her hold. "Forgive me, father, if I have harmed you so, yet this is the way of it now. There is still time for us both, and I still love you." She decided then that she would not return to Lórien for some time, or perhaps never again, for she would remain with her father whom she loved dearly while she had time. "Do not yet fear the end."

* * *

Arwen was in Rivendell for three days before finally inquiring of Aragorn. He was with the Rangers of the North as was most often and had not been in Imladris for many months. Her heart despaired at his absence. She spent many hours watching him in her thought wherever he journeyed. She could almost feel him if she tried. 

One night she had a dream they were together again in Rivendell, walking along a path at night while the moon rose high above the earth. It shone brighter than ever before. Aragorn and Arwen spoke softly in the elvish tongue as they walked silently arm-in-arm with the soothing sounds of the evening around them. It was a dream like those of the Elves when they rested, for theirs were like as to the waking world as this one. She felt him beside her with his very presence as real as if he were actually there.

"_What dreams we have, we must cherish," Aragorn said, "for those such as these in our sleep."_

"_You know all my dreams would be like this if it were possible and I willed it. But rarely ones such as this have I had so that my heart fills to bursting with delight indescribable," said Arwen. "If we cannot be together in life, then shall we meet in dreams."_

_Aragorn halted in his step and met her gaze. She felt a deep love for him stronger than ever before from seeing the devotion, love, and admiration in his bright eyes. He was nobler than any of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth that lived in that day. He was among the great; only Elrond, Celeborn, Mithrandir, and Galadriel stood so esteemed in her mind._

"_Then shall I despair if it is always so for I would see your face when I am waking. Shall it always be thus, my love?" he said softly._

"_Not always for there will be a time if the darkness is destroyed that we will never be separated again unless one of us wills it, and the Lord Elrond will give up that which he loves to death and mortality. I would not do so if it be possible, yet there is no other choice I would have but you," Arwen smiled, "my love. A short span of years with you in Middle-earth is greater to me than all the years until the end of time regretting my decision to leave you, feeling the emptiness of your absence."_

_Aragorn's eyes filled with sorrow at the thought of her beauty diminishing to death at the end of the road. He looked upon her with compassion and gently pressed his lips against hers._

Arwen's mind suddenly awakened as she lay in bed resting with her eyes open in the manner of the Elves. She saw that the sun was rising in the East and that a ray of light had come across her face. _Yes, the dream. What a dream it was_. _Aragorn was right: we must cherish dreams such as these for we must visit each other in the night when we are leagues and leagues away in the light of the day_.

Arwen sighed with pleasure when she thought of it. She stood in one graceful movement from the bed and stepped out the door. She walked across the cold floor with bare white feet, her flowing gold dress brushing upon the ground. The morning was brisk with the crisp, cool air filling her lungs. It was still cold after some time of walking, so she seized a cloak from her quarters to keep warm. From there she travelled down halls and stone steps outside where the sweet smell of life hung in the air. Her slow, sonorous steps were silent and graceful, and a soft light shone around her as it often does when Elves are deep in thought. In her mind she thought of what Elrond would say concerning Aragorn. She knew he opposed the bond between them, but she loved him as well for he was her beloved father. It grieved her to afflict him so.

* * *

Arwen and Elrond spent much time with one another while she was in Imladris. They had chosen not to speak of the bond of her and Aragorn after the brief moment at her return for it grieved Lord Elrond too much until a time when he could bear the burden. 

One of these times Arwen broached the matter of Sauron gathering forces in the East. Elrond's eyes darkened, and he clasped his hands tightly as he thought how to word his answers. "Yes, the Enemy is moving...but slowly. We do not yet know his full purposes."

"Do you not? It is to destroy all who oppose him," said Arwen, "and to quench all that is bright and beautiful."

"That is his intention, yet how he shall try to accomplish it no one can guess for the moment. In time he will begin to reveal bits of his mind whether he wishes to or not. It is then we will piece it together...I should hope."

"The simple-minded are easy to understand."

Elrond's brows drew down slightly. "You are saying Sauron is simple-minded?"

"Yes, father. He wishes and yearns for one thing only: power. That makes him simple for he can think of nothing else," said Arwen. "Other things confuse him such as love, hope, and courage. Can we not use it against him?"

"All we can use against him is force, Arwen. Do you not know that we have tried to understand his thoughts for hundreds—nay, thousands!—of years? He was defeated for a time only by strength." He was silent for a moment. "Yet will it be so again?" His foresight had come upon him, though it revealed only that if the Dark Lord would truly be destroyed it would be much different than the times before. It would be as Arwen said: love, hope, and courage would prevail if all the right courses were taken.

Arwen saw his change of thought and nodded to herself. As long as they held on to hope...the Enemy could never truly defeat them no matter how mighty his arm had become.

* * *

The Evenstar sat in a cushioned chair made of soft crimson velvet and dark wood in her quarters, clutching a plump pillow to her chest. The light of the sun caressed her face as she closed her eyes in memory of days before when Aragorn had been at hand. Now he was gone. It pained her heart to think of how long he might be in the Wild. If he were ever hurt... She sat upright in a flash of movement, her eyes opening. No. She could not think of such things; not now while the days were long and bright. 

Arwen arose from the chair to find Elrond. She left her room and walked down the hall to where his study was. After listening for any sound inside with her ear pressed against the door, she knocked lightly. There was no answer. _He must be amidst the trees or among the fountains_. He often took pleasure in walking in the forests of Imladris or watching the bright fountains shimmer in the sunlight or moonlight. It took his mind away from all the darkness growing in the East.

She made her way outside where the smell of flowers met her like a clear veil she had stepped through. She looked around for any sign of the elven-lord but did not see him. The thought of where he might be was not known to her though she knew him well.

"Arwen!" called a voice behind her.

She turned round. It was not Elrond. "Good afternoon, Cemendur," said Arwen, smiling faintly. He had come to Rivendell not long after her, bearing a message from the Lady Galadriel. Arwen wondered if that was the only reason, yet he was a noble Elf, so she soon abandoned the foolish notion knowing her mind was worn from the strain of the past few days.

He bowed. "My lady, you look as though you were searching for someone or something. Could I be of service to you in any way?"

Arwen thought for a moment. "Perhaps. Do you know where Master Elrond is? I have looked for him in his study, inside, and now I have come out here. Could it be that you know of his whereabouts?"

"Yes, I do. He is sitting by the fountain near the pool of water west of us. I saw him there, but I did not disturb him for he looked deep in thought."

"Thank you," said Arwen. "I shall go and see him then."

Cemendur smiled and watched her go from him with his eyes upon her receding back. Her flowing hair was pulled back with a golden string so that it did not stir before her face, and she wore garments of deep green like gleaming emeralds and the leaves of the forest trees. Her physical beauty was so great that to him she was a star that had fallen from the heavens to walk among them in her glorious wake. He shuddered as he watched the Evening Star.

* * *

1. _They have come!_


	8. Realisation and New Friendship

AUTHORS NOTE: Thank you so much for reading my story everyone! Valia-Elf mentioned Cemendur and I wanted to point out that he was inspired by this thought: was there any Elf enamoured of Arwen (like Daeron of Lúthien) who began to dislike Aragorn because of it? Even Elves can feel jealousy it seems, but Cemendur is still a noble Elf :). I am glad you all like the story, so enjoy ch. 8!

* * *

Elrond sat on the fountain's edge, gazing into its crystal depths in deep thought. Arwen stopped before leaving the shade of the trees she stood beneath. Her step had faltered when she saw her father. His back was turned to her and his body motionless as if a part of the pale stone he sat upon. Arwen pushed away the dark hair that blew across her face and stood as still as he. There were sharp lines in his face but not of age. They had come from his many years of life though they left him wiser, not aged as a mortal for he had chosen to belong to the Elves in his time.

Arwen lowered her head when she thought of her own decision and how it affected her father each time it surfaced in his thoughts. "Elrohir and Elladan shall go with you, father. Not everyone has forsaken you," she murmured into the soft breeze. Her sleeves billowed out behind her alongside the skirts of her flowing garments. She became a statue of a beautiful elf-maiden frozen in time.

She finally turned away to depart and leave her word to Elrond unsaid for another time. She had come to speak to him of her decision to forsake the Twilight for it could not stand between them forever like a looming boulder they were attempting to ignore. Someday she would confront him with it; nonetheless, it would be much later.

* * *

The days were brightened in Rivendell at the coming of the Evenstar and joy flowed forth abundantly, the Elves singing loud and clear all through the nights seeming to need no rest. The Evenstar, though, did not seem as blissful as everyone else. Elrond perceived it better than others since he had himself raised her and seen how she had come to behave.

Few knew of the meeting between the Lord Aragorn and Lady Undómiel in Lórien. Elrond, Gilraen, and Glorfindel were the only ones who knew of Aragorn and Arwen's pledge on the hill of Cerin Amroth. Aragorn still wandered in the wild with his men. No one knew exactly how long it would be before he visited Imladris yet again, but Arwen felt she was the only one who cared whether he returned soon or not.

She stood looking out from the balcony extending beyond her quarters. The view was spectacular even though she did not take notice for her heart went out across the land farther north. She sighed and decided to take the company of a friend to keep away the seclusion she felt surrounding her. Cemendur was still in Rivendell even after he had delivered his message and had seemed to wish to be near Arwen whenever he saw her in the day; so she left the balcony to search for him.

Cemendur gladly took Arwen's company when she found him. "Arwen, I have not seen you for some time now. How comes this?" he said.

Arwen did not meet his gaze but watched two birds flitting about in a tree. "I do not know. It is not important. How long are you to remain here in Rivendell? Will they not miss you in Lórien?"

Cemendur shrugged his slim shoulders. "I do not know. It is not important," he laughed. "They surely will not miss me, that I know. There is no one there to desire me back home in the Golden Wood. The Lady Galadriel has many who will serve her purposes besides me. Why do you wish to know?"

"No reason really; but you said you would be staying a short time. It is now been more than that...though I suppose it is not important," she said, still watching the birds.

Cemendur tilted his head and leaned forward closer to her. "Is it your habit to not look at people when you are speaking with them?" he asked in jest while he concealed a delighted smile.

Arwen shifted her gaze. Her piercing eyes burned into his own with an intensity that reminded him of the Lady Galadriel, and the Lord Celeborn and Elrond. Rarely could anyone endure the stare of these few of the Wise of Middle-earth.

"Forgive me," she said softly, "I was distracted."

Cemendur looked at the birds that suddenly lifted their wings and flew away with a soft flutter of blue feathers. He did so as a reason just to glance away from her bright eyes. Cemendur did not take much time to enjoy simple beauty such as that of the two birds flirting with each other as Arwen did. Arwen was beginning to take heed of these certain qualities as she was around Cemendur regularly.

"I must be on my way," she said quickly.

"Must you? Do you have some pressing engagement that is more important than speaking with a fellow Elf?" he said with a hint of teasing as well as seriousness.

Arwen sighed inaudibly. "Perhaps...and remember, I am still halfelven." Arwen turned and stared down at her clasped hands as she started walking away so she would not have to tell him of the choice she had made long ago for it would break his heart to hear it.

Cemendur hastened to catch up to her after watching her walk away. He strolled beside her with his hands at his sides, though he appeared restless most instances when he was in her presence. "How could that be possible? No mortal could be as beautiful as you, Arwen." The manner in which his voice suddenly smoothed halted her in her step. She clearly knew Cemendur's mind and train of thought. When she stared directly at him, for she was almost his very height, his eyes now appeared to have a different light in them that moved her to pity. He was too late for her to care for him in the same way.

"I am halfelven and have the choice of which race to live as," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I thought you knew that."

"It does not make any difference. Elrond is halfelven, yet he has chosen the path of the immortal Elves who are blessed to sail into the West when their life here in Middle-earth has tired them to exhaustion of all its lands. All those halfelven have that same choice. Do you not understand that, fairest of maidens?"

Arwen had trouble believing it. How was it that everyone was questioning her decision of immortality or mortality? Arwen grew paler to the extent that Cemendur thought she turned the colour of death itself. It was in some measure of foresight for it mirrored her choice to come.

"I...do not wish to speak of it. It is not a simple matter on my part, so I would hope you do not inquire of it again," said Arwen.

Cemendur looked at her quizzically but did not allow it to worry him. He nodded and looked at his feet.

Arwen watched him for a moment, then sighed. "Forgive me, but I must go and speak with Elrond. Goodbye, my friend." Arwen moved around him and walked in the direction of Elrond's study where she hoped he would be. She also hoped Cemendur would not follow her inside. It was not that she disliked him, but he seemed to broach delicate subjects or say things that made her uncomfortable nearly every time they spoke together. He was also drawing nearer the truth each time.

* * *

Arwen endeavoured to wait patiently for Aragorn to visit the Last Homely House again, so she found other things to occupy her mind. One day she discovered something priceless harboured in Rivendell.

She strolled through the corridors of Rivendell silently in deep thought. Her mind wandered the days of old in the First Age as Elrond and Galadriel had portrayed them to her: she envisioned the dark woods of Doriath where Lúthien once danced to Daeron's music and met the mortal Beren. From that meeting came the fate of the world for so many threads were connected to their profound and immeasurable love.

_Will that be our fate?_ Arwen questioned herself as she listened to the sweet silence that overflowed in the great halls of Imladris. Her unshod feet made no sound on the hard floor, and the trail of her silver-blue apparel rustled barely at all. She looked down where she walked, fingering the silver sash swathed around her waist. _Will Estel and I even live to see the end of the Shadow? Or will Sauron live on, growing in power?_ These dark thoughts sent a shudder down her spine like chilled water upon her skin, and she forsook such dim things to remember her beloved and his voice that she had not heard in so long. _Oh to hear him near again..._

* * *

Gilraen, Aragorn's mother abiding still in Rivendell, was attempting to read a book she had found written in the flowing elven-script. She had learned some but had not read much. The sunlight was soft as it seeped through the trees and set alight the leaves into green flame. The heavens were partially shrouded in grey clouds, and the air was chill.

Suddenly Gilraen lifted her head to listen more carefully for it was not only the wind that wafted through the corridors. There was a voice like the flowing of a stream, as clear as starlight, and beautiful like a golden sunset over the Sea. She had heard many beautiful voices among the Elves while abiding in the Last Homely House, yet this one was somehow different and more piercing to the heart. It drew one's attention at once.

She rose to her feet, setting the book on an ornately carved table beside the seat. The voice had grown sweeter and stronger as well as strangely mournful. Gilraen slowly stepped forward to look out into the hallway to see the owner of the pleasing voice. A vision of glorious splendour filed her sight. An Elven maiden there walked with soft light enveloping her. She was clothed in silver-blue with a sash of silver draping over her slender form. Her skin was flawless and pale, like the shimmering surface of snow, while her shadowy hair fell upon her shoulders and back in an intricate fashion. It was her physical beauty that captured Gilraen's eyes, however, when she looked up, a great depth of knowledge and wisdom was thrown from her gaze so bright in the daylight.

The Elven-maid saw Gilraen and slowed to a halt. Her lilting song had ended only moments before.

"Greetings," she said in a melodic voice like unto her singing.

"Greetings, fair Elf," said Gilraen, realising that it might seem strange to find a mortal in the elven halls. "Forgive me for intruding...but I could not help but listen to your song. You sing of what mortals do not fully understand." She had been describing the white shores of Valinor as she sang and all the brilliance about that land. It had entranced her to hear such stunning words.

The maiden smiled. "Thank you. You are Lady Gilraen, yes?"

Gilraen nodded. "I am."

"Estel spoke highly of you, and I am honoured to finally become acquainted with you."

_Estel? She knows Aragorn then. But wait...there is only one Elf-maiden I know of that Aragorn has mentioned_. "Are you truly Arwen Undómiel, Evenstar of the Elves?" she asked aloud.

"I am. I see that you have heard my name before as well."

"From Aragorn who has spoken very highly of you." She pursed her lips. "_Very_ highly, my lady."

Arwen's eyes darkened as she neared the mortal woman. "Then you know of the love we share. Your son is very dear to me, and you have raised him well, Gilraen. There is no other I have seen that has such a golden heart and a pure soul. I can only imagine the fury of his sword in battle when his passion in life is so strong. As King of Gondor he would be greater than all that have come before him. I have often wondered such things for we must be parted in these dark days."

"Perhaps we should speak where none might hear," suggested Gilraen.

"Yes, I suppose we should. Many do not yet know of my decision."

"They will in time, for love cannot be concealed long. Aragorn attempted to veil his love for you here in Rivendell many years ago, yet I could see it plain in his eyes when he merely looked at me. Elrond saw it also."

Arwen's smile slipped from her stunning face. "And yet I had not seen it at first when you both had. I must have been blinded by...something."

They entered the parlour where Gilraen had been reading and sat near one another in the light of the sun. Arwen studied Gilraen's face in a brief moment. She was worn by time but not by it alone for the strain of life had aged her much in the years she had lived. Her pale eyes were dim and almost quenched of light, though her noble wisdom still glittered in their depths. Her shadowy hair was no longer darkly glistening being occupied by aging grey, yet the beauty of her youth remained somewhat in her pale face. Beside each other they seemed completely opposite.

"How long have you resided in Rivendell?" Arwen asked.

"Ever since Aragorn was brought here when he was only two years of age." She sighed. "It was so long ago now, and he is grown to full manhood and wisdom. He always seemed older than he truly was even as a child. Lord Elrond has continually admired such attributes in him." She smiled at Arwen. "He loves Aragorn as he does his own sons even if he is distant at times, but I fear this choice of yours has brought much sorrow between them."

"I know it too well," Arwen sighed. She gazed into the stirring trees outside. A chill wind breathed through the high arches, and she shuddered at the sudden cold. "He is pained to a great amount whenever he ponders it, so I often plead for him to draw his attention elsewhere. We have not spoken of it of late, and in this I am glad for it troubles me little any longer."

"It is a burden he must bear as you must also. Master Elrond is a mighty lord, yet I do not wish for him to have such a heavy load. I have seen his spirit battle the Shadow often over the years."

Arwen nodded. "As have I, Gilraen." She looked into her eyes. "Perhaps we should speak of lighter things for in these times there are needs to shed light in the shadows. My heart was darkened once before, and I refuse to let it be again."

Their conversation shifted to Gilraen's life with the Edain and with the Elves. Arwen listened intently as she drew out the tale. The woman held much beneath her veil of silence, and had taken a heavy blow when Arathorn was slain.

"I loved him dearly," she murmured. "Sometimes I wonder what life would be like with him still living. I suppose Aragorn would not be as skilled in elven things and their ways, so perhaps it was for the good of Man."

"Everything that happens has some purpose whether we realise it or not," said Arwen. "I wonder often of how my spirit would have darkened if I had not met Aragorn in the bright wood of Imladris and then in Lothlórien. My heart would have turned to the West and Aragorn...Aragorn would have forsaken love of a woman and lost his path." She drew a deep breath and unclasped her hands.

Gilraen nodded slightly. "There are many if's in life, yet we cannot dwell on them forever."

"Indeed." The Evenstar leaned forward. "Are you often here in the afternoons?"

Gilraen smiled, her eyes brightening. "Most oft of late, I am."

It was in this moment Aragorn's mother and beloved were at last acquainted and took pleasure in each other's company. Gilraen realised in the following months why her son had become so enamoured of the Evenstar only at first sight: she was a rare maiden of whose like would never walk the earth again lest it be her daughters who would be many years to come.


	9. Departure of a Fading Star

AUTHORS NOTE: Finally chapter 9! I totally agree with you fearlessfreak...Legolas and Aragorn love stories are really disgusting in my viewpoint as well as all the other slash :P. I have more of Tolkien's dialogue in this chap. when Aragorn and Gilraen are near the end of speaking together, so just to let you know. And there's a bit of Aragorn's journeys in the North where he wards evil from the land, so there's some battling in here because it leads up to a really beautiful moment in the next chap, so ch. 9 is PG-13 I suppose. Enjoy:)

* * *

Not long after Arwen and Gilraen's meeting—in the reckoning of Elves—Gilraen felt it was time to return to her own kindred far from the borders of Imladris. A need was upon her, and Elrond could not dissuade her. Arwen heard of her decision, so she went to speak with her one last time for they would not meet again on the earth. She found her readying a pack to carry on her horse for the journey and thinking silently.

"You truly are leaving?" Arwen asked softly.

Gilraen started and looked up into her glimmering eyes. "Yes, for my years are dwindling, and I have been long away from my kin."

Arwen nodded and paused a moment before speaking. "Now I understand a little of the mortality of Men. I have chosen a difficult path."

"Yet the more difficult path leads to a greater end," said Gilraen. "You did not choose the easy road, and so our life is wholly blessed."

"Some Elves say that the Lesser Folk are not very wise, however...I believe some are as wise as they."

Gilraen smiled sadly as tears sprang into her pale eyes. "Thank you, Evenstar. The Elves are more courteous than any race I have ever met."

And so later in the day Gilraen was ready to depart. Master Elrond had given her an escort of three Elves to guide her safely through the lands and was there to bid farewell. "You have been with us long, and I regret you departing this day." He clasped her hands. "You have born a child who has brought hope to the world of Men and hope of Middle-earth kept safe to the Elves. There was none better to raise him."

Gilraen squeezed his hands and stepped back. "You have protected that which I love most and taught him Elven wisdom. You also gave us a place to stay when nowhere else was safe or so protected so that he was raised in the greatest dwelling and kingdom of all. And it is not only he that received such gifts."

"We shall not meet again," said Elrond gravely. "Namárië, Gilraen, and may all the blessings of the Elves go with you and the Valar guard your path."

The three Elves led their glistening horses forward as Gilraen followed among them with one she had been given as a gift by Elrond, Lord of Rivendell. Arwen suddenly appeared at his side in shining white apparel, glimmering in the sun, and she raised a hand in farewell to the mortal woman who had become well-known to her. Gilraen paused to return the farewell with a warm smile gracing her noble face.

"Will she ever return?" Arwen murmured as to herself.

Elrond's eyes were distant. "Not in life but in death for this is the last journey of Lady Gilraen, noble woman of the Dúnedain."

There she passed to return to her lost kin she had forsaken many years ago, into the shadows and shrouded by sorrow in her last days. There would be no return to the fair valley of Imladris while breath remained in her body.

* * *

Aragorn entered the room to find his ageing mother sitting by a warm fire. His heart was rent at the sight of her so frail and troubled. It contrasted greatly to what he knew in past days. Sorrow was written on her face and in her eyes from all the troubles she had passed through and endured. Her eyes still gleamed in the firelight and brightened at seeing her beloved son standing near her in the room.

Gilraen beckoned Aragorn to come forward and sit with her by the fire. He pulled up a wooden chair close to his mother. "You have come," she said in a quiet voice with a hint of a smile on her pale lips.

"Of course I have. I could not bear to be away from you any longer, my dear mother," said Aragorn. He kissed her cheek. "It has been some time since I saw you."

They spoke briefly of the Dúnedain, the happenings in the South lands, and briefly of Lord Elrond. Then Gilraen broached a delicate subject that was continually surfacing in Aragorn's thoughts.

"At last I have glimpsed this star—glimpsed for none can understand her of mortals fully but you—that you have seen before you. She is brightest and fairest of all that live. Now I understand your yearning of her love for she is also wisest and noblest…as I said before many, many years gone when you first knew of her."

Aragorn smiled softly. "Arwen Undómiel. I am glad you have met before the end."

"As am I," she murmured. "I almost wish to have had more time with the woman who is to wed my son."

"Only if the darkness is broken and all hopes are fulfilled. There is a great battle to come when all forces clash at last, and then we shall see who prevails at the end. Only then, when I come to the Throne of Gondor and Men, will Elrond lay her hand in mine when I am worthy of it."

Gilraen answered not for a long moment. Aragorn reached out a hand to place over hers for he saw a strange emptiness in the far depths of her eyes in the way she gazed into the fire. He drew a steady breath and waited.

Gilraen turned to meet his gaze, her eyes returning. "This is our last parting, Estel, my son. I am aged by care, even as one of lesser Men; and now that it draws near I cannot face the darkness of our time that gathers upon Middle-earth. I shall leave it soon."

Aragorn tried to comfort her saying, "Yet there may be a light beyond the darkness; and if so, I would have you see it and be glad."

But she answered only with this linnod: "Onen i-Estel Edain, ú-chebin estel anim."

Aragorn was troubled by her words, and he departed the next day to make his way into Rhudaur where a shadow had fallen in form of Wargs, yet his heart was grieved at the thought of never seeing his beloved mother again in life.

* * *

Arwen watched from a high balcony to the North where she awaited any sort of reassurance that he would be back soon. He had been gone longer than expected, so she tried to put her mind on other things...which almost seemed impossible. Her thoughts watched over him as he travelled.

With Gilraen parted and Elrond lately busy, Cemendur was the only one that was in her company the past few days. She did not particularly take pleasure in the company of many Elves at once, so she remained solitude most of her time. She dearly loved her kindred, yet she had always been a more remote maiden who took comfort in peaceful silence and thought.

A tall, golden-haired Elf drew up behind her, his hair aflame in the sun. His piercing eyes were the colour of the sea in a raging storm as he stepped beside her without a sound.

"Glorfindel, how is father doing? He seemed somewhat hard-pressed from meetings about such dark things and the troubles of the world."

The Elf-lord named Glorfindel turned to her; the wisdom was evident in the lines of his face. "He is managing for nothing is too great a deal for that sturdy, hale lord. Your father is ever-enduring for things such as this; which I believe you know. He _is_ your father."

"Elrond is a wonderful father, but he acts more like my protector most times. I suppose it is because of the innate feeling of having to guard one's daughter more closely than any son one might have."

"Precisely," said Glorfindel with a slight smile. Glorfindel was a high counsellor of Elrond and another powerful Elf-lord who once lived in the West in Eldamar ages ago. The Lord of Rivendell would trust this man with his life and always had with his beautiful daughter who at times took his counsel.

* * *

Aragorn had many journeys in all the reaches of Middle-earth, yet this is only one of them for they cannot all easily be told. He was wandering the lands of Rhudaur near the Trollshaws where he had not often been, and was alone as many Rangers are. The land was quiet compared to others he often roamed, but he paid no heed to it. All he set his attention on was what he could see and feel.

His second night there, he had abandoned the thought of a fire to keep away the lonely dark and lay flat on the ground beneath the hanging eaves of a tree. There were not many in this land except for very few sparse woods. He could not sleep even after a few hours and decided to move on.

He had heard word from the Eagles that Wargs had crossed the Misty Mountains when they never had before, so he journeyed into the more desolate lands to make sure the rumour was correct, and if it was...drive them back. He had searched and scouted for two days already, finding no signs until that afternoon: in the midst of a dry field he had discovered tracks like prints of large wolves moving about then retreating to the base of the mountains from days ago. He had seen nothing more but knew they were close...if around at all.

As he was beginning to move out from under the trees, fierce howling broke out, shattering the silence of the shadowed night. Aragorn's hand moved to the hilt of his sword without delay as he crept through the meagre wood instead of in the open field. The horrible clamour was quite close.

It did not take much time for the sturdy Ranger to seek out the foul beasts with the tumult they were creating. They were frenzied in a far field of tall brownish-green grass, with occasional shrubs, around something hidden among them. Aragorn presumed they had been hunting in the night and was glad they had not come upon him at unawares. There seemed to be twelve of them in whole, so Aragorn drew his sword.

The Wargs were so occupied by their kill that they did not observe the slow-moving figure shrouded in shadow who approached with a keen, gleaming blade in his grasp. He crouched in the high grass waiting for the opportune moment to strike like a deadly arrow flown from the bow. He had dealt with such creatures before near Mirkwood and made sure the wind was in his favour. It gently stirred his dark hair, and his eyes glistened in the little light there was. Twelve Wargs was not an easy task; so he set his jaw, gripped his bright sword, and targeted his first quarry with quick calculation. Their death had come.

He neared one of the unsightly beasts idly trotting about the others and, with a swift thrust, ran his sword into its heart. It was so quick and surprised it so completely that it gave off no warning; yet the wind shifted at Aragorn's back. He sensed the change and foresaw what happened next.

All the remaining Wargs caught his scent and whirled around with fierce snarls and teeth bared to seek him out. He bounded to his feet, slicing the head of one and stabbing another in the stomach when it leaped for him. He lifted his sword from the pierced flesh and gazed upon his enemies with a perilous, raging flame in his eyes that the large wolves would have been wise to notice. They did not understand who they were daring to attack: he was the Heir of Isildur, hardiest of Men and Elves, and the deadliest warrior a creature of the Enemy could face.

He waited for them with frightening patience in his relaxed stance, almost beckoning them to come. The Wargs stood amazed for a moment for no one man had ever challenged more than five of them at once. There were now eleven facing this strange man.

One of the bulkier of them charged with two others following close on his heels. The first went down in two quick strokes, the next two with one each. Aragorn lowered his sword and only had a brief second before the rest leaped forward to assail him. Some took more than one or two blows, and so Aragorn fought on, determined to slay each of them. One by one they fell to the Heir of Elendil's keen blade as he carried out the dance of battle. His limbs flowed like water, and the elven blade became another limb. The creatures realised too late that they had challenged the wrong man.

Aragorn lowered his cold blade stained with dark blood to the earth and swiped it clean upon the grass. He looked upon the dead and stopped all he was doing immediately. There were only eleven; one was missing. He slowly positioned himself for a sudden attack from any direction and drew a deep breath. His muscles tensed, creating a mighty rippling beneath his garments that any wise man or orc would fear.

The adept Ranger stepped lightly over the earth searching about the field because Wargs never fled or went to report anything when there were deaths to avenge. His breathing slowed and his heart beat normally again after the exertion of the fight. _He had better show himself soon_, he thought as he neared the trees. _At times such as this, I wish Men had such smelling as they did_. He was wondering where such a strange thought had appeared from when a great, dark mass flew out of the shadows of the trees upon him. He had tried to leap out of its path, yet could not evade the large creature with its great bulk. His sword dropped not far from his hand, but he was too occupied with the warg to reach out for it. He cried out in pain when sharp claws ripped into his flesh in his side, letting fly his hand to grasp his sword and run it straight through the warg's heart.

It was stunned for a moment and finally fell away to the earth with its foul blood soaking the grass. Aragorn rose to his feet and flinched when he felt the pain in his side. Even with the throbbing injury, he travelled on to another place where he could safely tend it without disturbance in the remainder of the night. He let the beasts lie where they were for he wished not the trouble of discarding them.

Aragorn was thankful he always carried athelas in his pouch that dark night. He boiled it in water to cleanse and heal the tearing of the claws in his side before binding it to keep protected and from bleeding any more. His eyes fell with weariness and his limbs stiffened, so he lay down upon the earth to rest for the night.

* * *

Elrond entered Aragorn's chambers silently. He had returned from his many journeys once again to find peace in the cleansing rest of Rivendell. Whenever his foster-son came, it was only for a short while, but this instance Aragorn was visibly different. He had been embraced by Glorfindel at his arrival who barely glimpsed the flash of pain cross Aragorn's face and the sorrowful glint in his eyes when he did.

"Aragorn," said Elrond when he saw him gazing out upon the land, "it is pleasant to see you again after so long."

He turned to meet the Elf's gaze. "And I am pleased to see you again, Lord Elrond." He had stopped calling him father long years ago, though at times it surfaced when he was not paying much attention.

"You seem displeased this day. Does something trouble you that you have not spoken of?"

"Yes, yet I still would not speak of it for I must first rest and re-approach my thoughts with a lighter spirit. It is my own fault I have fallen into despair, so it will be me that repairs the damage. Being here has already begun its work in my heart." He smiled. "Perhaps I was never despaired in the first instance, and I only feel weary of my journeys. Either way...peaceful sleep will ease the feeling from my heart."

"Then I shall let you rest, my son, but food and drink would do much good for you," said Elrond grasping his son's shoulder.

Aragorn laughed. "You are beginning to sound like a Halfling telling me of food and drink!...To think of them safe in their lands by the Dúnedain's hands lightens my spirit."

"That is well," Elrond smiled, "for they also lighten my spirit. Such jovial creatures cannot help but spread their unquenchable joy. I wish you well, Aragorn, and may you feel better in time."

"Thank you," Aragorn murmured. "You are much too generous, father."


	10. Blooming Stars

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks everyone once again! I'm soooo glad you all are enjoying the story. Yay, plenty of fluff in this chap! It's one of my faves, I think. I've really tried to capture all the characters' personalities and reactions as Tolkien would have had them and I hope I have so far. Enjoy ch. 10!

* * *

The sun was gone, but the stars bloomed bright in the heavens. The luminous moon was only half of itself. All was well in the valley of Imladris as some slept peacefully while Elves sang with the stars of all that was beautiful.

Aragorn rolled onto his back where he lay in bed attempting to rest. He gently fingered the healing wound on his side, feeling doubt creep into his heart once again. It had been given him by the Warg that had leaped upon him at unawares for it had not been with the others he had slain. They had been wandering—or scouting—further west than he had ever seen them. He saw evil things were stirring more often in his journeying and safe keeping of the Northern lands.

A gust of wind stirred the sheer drapes separating the high balcony from his chambers. He closed his eyes to listen to the whispering of the wind, yet only because of this did he hear his door close when it should have been shut already. He wondered if the cool breeze had created the sound. He opened his eyes and sat up at once.

A shrouded figure had entered his private quarters only to come and stand at his beside; but when they moved he relaxed. "Arwen...you should not be here." He sat straight.

The Evenstar removed the dark cowl, revealing a radiant elven face shining in the soft moonlight that caressed her flawless skin. Her eyes glittered as she sat gently on the bed. "I do not care," she whispered, her voice smooth and mellow. "I came to see you."

Aragorn smiled and reached out a hand to run his fingers along her porcelain cheek. "Then neither do I."

She placed a hand over his lying on the coverlet. "I had to see you, my beloved, for I sensed distress stirring in your mood. You only arrived today, yet..." she paused and lightly touched his side where the warg had injured him, "life has not treated you kindly. Has Elrond seen it?"

"No, yet it is healing for I tended it with athelas. It does not smart as it did on my journey here." He laced his fingers through hers.

She nodded and smiled softly when she gazed into his face. "Then forget the Shadow for a while and remember all that is fair and bright."

"That is why I often remember you, Undómiel," he murmured. Their hands still clasped and unclasped on the coverlet. "You bring hope and shining light to my heart at each and every moment of the night and day."

They arose from that place to stand upon the balcony overlooking the bright land. The moonlight fell upon them in glimmering beams of light. Aragorn turned his head to look upon his fair beloved standing at his side in glorious beauty not seen since the First Age. He smiled, watching her until she turned her attention to him as well.

"I have forgotten why I felt despair," he said. He moved her glistening hair from her face.

"Then I am glad," she said grasping his hand to kiss it. "You always chase away dark, unhopeful thoughts from my mind and fill my heart with a greater love and respect than I have ever felt in all my life. I had not begun to live until I met you in that blessed night."

"All nights with you near are blessed." Aragorn clasped her hands in his feeling the Ring of Barahir upon her finger, that which he had given her when they plighted their troth upon Cerin Amroth in Lórien. He remembered that glorious moment in time more clearly than any other memory.

His memories were interrupted when Arwen met his gaze and leaned up to kiss him. The touch was sweet and savoury for a purer love could not be found in all the reaches of Middle-earth. If one looked upon them in a spiritual sense, the two would have shone with a brilliant and blinding white light like that with which the world was created.

"I love you, Estel," Arwen said drawing back. "I always will."

"And I shall never stop loving you," said Aragorn. He kissed her brow and released her. "Go now to rest. There is always a tomorrow."

1. "Aman ná fúmella."

They re-entered Aragorn's chambers, and Arwen departed silently. Aragorn lay down upon his bed once again, falling into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

The next day, Aragorn was returned to his joyous self, and all breathed easier. He straightened his tunic and dried his dripping hair for he had bathed that morning to wash away the stains of travel and to soak his stiff limbs. He left his sword in his bed chambers for in Rivendell there was no need of it, and he followed the wide corridors to a room with its door closed fast. When he knocked, there was no answer. He waited only a moment before coming to another room, this one a library of Imladris joined with a large lounge where one could walk down a few steps to walk upon the grass with trees and foliage all around and stone paths leading to bright fountains.

Two Elf-maidens sat speaking softly to one another in the parlour with a golden haze of sunlight about them. Aragorn glanced at the first, a pale-haired maiden dressed in pale shades of blue. She was beautiful as all Elves are, yet only slightly pretty beside the other. The other looked up through dark lashes with shining eyes and smiled radiantly when she saw Aragorn standing in the archway wearing a content, simple grin. She was clothed in plain grey, but it only accentuated the beauty of her brilliant face with its simplicity.

The pale-haired Elf turned when Arwen looked up and donned a knowing expression. She bid Arwen a good day, then stood to leave. "Good morning, Dúnadan," she said nodding to him as she stood before him.

"Good morning, my lady," he said bowing slightly. He glanced over her shoulder. "I fear I do not know your name."

"I am Elenwë, and I indeed already know who you are." She smiled meaningfully as she bid him farewell. Aragorn and Arwen were now alone.

The bright Evenstar stood to come to his side.

"The day is fair and bright, my lady," he said offering her his arm. "Would you care to enjoy it with me?"

"Gladly. I have been waiting for you, Estel. Is it your wont to take such time?" She slipped her arm into his.

Aragorn smiled and shrugged. "Oh, I suppose I can be as leisurely as you. It is difficult, but..."

Arwen then laughed and gently smacked his arm with her other hand. "I fear I can say nothing more of that for fear of injuring your pride!"

They laughed and took comfort in their time together as they tread the stone paths of the lush courtyards they had come to. Arwen gazed up into the heavens where azure skies glistened in the sun's basking glory when it was not obscured by the bulging, glimmering clouds.

"Perhaps we should ride down into the land," she said.

"Yes, if you wish it. Let us go to the stables."

The two mounted their horses and rode through the stirring trees. The forest opened up into a meadow where shimmering pink flowers dotted the emerald grass. Beyond it were many birch trees bending in the wind.

"Elrohir, Elladan, and I came here many times to practice the sword," Aragorn murmured when his grey palfrey drew up beside Arwen's white stallion.

"They taught me the knife here as well," said Arwen. "That was many long years ago in the reckoning of Men for it was near the beginning of the Third Age when I was still considered young."

"Are they still hunting orcs in the North? I had not heard."

"Yes, as is customary. They stay here for a few months then are absent for longer months. They have never forgiven the Orcs for what they did to mother. Sometimes I wish I could join them, yet I know they will pay the price when the day comes when all that is evil stands before the Valar and Ilúvatar himself. Perhaps they will be slain even before then."

Aragorn smiled. "You would make a great captain, my love; though my heart would be severed at the thought of you in battle."

They rode forward into the gold and green meadow and dismounted near the line of trees. They left their horses to wander as they sat in the fragrant grass, cool beneath them at the base of a mighty tree.

"We also attempted to best one another with the bow," said Aragorn of Elrond's sons as they continued their conversation.

"Who often won?"

He laughed softly at the memory of their games. "No one usually. We all three were too close to best the others, so it was not often we did such contests of skill with the bow. Did they teach you as well?"

"They and my father. My mother watched at times in amusement with all three of her children battling one another as we laughed merrily in our joy. In those days...Elrond was not as melancholy as he has become for all of his loved ones were at hand and the Dark Lord absent for the time being; my brothers were also not so affected while Celebrían was with us." She buried her long, pale feet in the soft grass. "The skill of weaponry is in our blood it seems, so it was not long before Elladan, Elrohir, and I were accomplished bowmen and such."

"I shall have to test them once again," Aragorn said in a thoughtful manner.

"In time," Arwen smiled. "For now you may remain here...Remember when we first met?"

His eyes brightened. "I shall never forget it."

"You were singing the Lay of Lúthien. I deem your voice is still as enchanting, and you are learned in much lore that Elrond has made known to you."

He sat up from where he had leaned upon his arm in the grass. "I see where you are preceding with your words."

"As well you might. What tales do you know?"

"Many. Almost as many as you, I deem."

"I have heard of your skill in the telling and witnessed it myself in Lórien. Will you not recount one that I perhaps have not heard?" She smiled as her head fell forward. "Your voice alone is pleasant to hear. It brings me comfort that I cannot feel when you are gone from my side."

Aragorn thought silently for a moment, gazing into her shining eyes. "Did you ever hear of the meeting of Thingol and Melian when the world began?"

"Nay, I have not. Elrond has not spoken of any kin of Lúthien Tinúviel for some time, and Galadriel only spoke of Melian and her wisdom."

"Then listen and you shall know." Aragorn recounted in full the meeting of Lúthien's mother and father long ages ago before Men had even awoken. Little was known of those times except for this enchanted encounter that would be the first and only joining of the Elves and the Maiar. Thingol was also called Elwë—the High King of the Elves that were first awoken in Middle-earth—who was leading his kindred to the bright shores to sail away to the West to Valinor. The High Elf suddenly was lost when he heard a song sweeter and more beautiful than any that the Elves had yet been blessed with, and so wandered away into the dark woods. There he saw Melian the Maia, who was very fair and bright, and fell in love with her at first sight. She also found him noble and fair. They were joined then in Middle-earth as she forsook Valinor to remain with him.

When he had finished, they were silent for much time. They watched the horses roam the meadow, nibbling the sweet grass and the cool breeze stir the high boughs laden with scores of leaves all around.

Arwen finally spoke. "You have the gift of the Elves it seems," she murmured. "You have woven a vision of splendour and beauty that I shall not forget. Now I have seen the tale in full."

"Then I am glad," he said quietly.

"I wish I could be with you at every moment of every day." There was a glint of sorrow in her eyes. "I wish we did not have to be parted for so long or so often. If only this dark age would end so that we might meet again when all is well and not be apart any longer."

"That has been my wish from the first moment I laid eyes upon you."

Arwen bit her lip and was enclosed by his gentle arms there beneath the fragrant tree with her head pressed against his shoulder. He tenderly fingered her silken tresses with long, soothing fingers.

"Such words only make it more difficult," she said softly. "I cannot bear to be away so long."

Arwen and Aragorn's time together was not long for he had the burden of his fate pressing upon him and was again gone from Rivendell.

* * *

Many years passed in the valley of Imladris while Arwen Evenstar remained there. Aragorn had not returned in all that time, and it made Arwen the more anxious to see him once again. She appeared more and more often in his dreams; so in sleep they were never parted, yet in wakefulness they rarely saw each other for but a brief time.

In the waning years, a shadow grew ever stronger in the East in the land of Mordor. Middle-earth was again becoming plagued by the Enemy's minions of darkness and other evil things that appeared more frequently than before. A shadow grew in the minds of Elves for they knew that there was one thing the Enemy was searching for all his years since he had lost it: the One Ring of Power that ruled all others. The Elves had the Three concealed within their realms where the Enemy knew not. Master Elrond held one of these in his power which was Vilya, the most powerful of the Three and also called the Ring of Sapphire because of its deep blue stone.

Arwen Undómiel realised this one evening as the sun was setting in the West where she looked to often.

Elrond came behind her and spoke softly. "Why do you ever look to the West, Arwen?"

Arwen did not answer straightway. She gazed at the bright colours splashed across the horizon for a little longer before speaking in a low voice. She said, "I do not know."

"But perhaps I do, my daughter. There are few Elves who have done so and are not in the West…or will be there soon. But there is one Elf who passed long years ago and did not sail to those white shores," said Elrond soothingly. "You know if you make the same decision you shall never go there, but if you make wiser choices, the light of the West will be before you yet. This choice I would rather you made as I and your brothers have."

Arwen still stared into the West listening to the words of Elrond. They were foreboding and chill to her heart. She rose quietly and looked him in the eye. There were no words between them, yet Elrond yielded at last when he perused her grey eyes. She was not withdrawing on her will, not even for his sake. She had made her choice long ago.

Arwen turned again to watch the sun set. Elrond said nothing but he stood at her side watching as well for he had not done so in many years of the world. It bestowed upon him a strange peace. He sat down, as did Arwen, and they gazed silently.

The fading light caught upon something on Elrond's finger that Arwen glimpsed from the corner of her sight. It sparkled suddenly. She looked more carefully. For a brief moment she saw a beautiful ring set upon his long finger with a shining blue gem in the midst of burnished gold. It was one of the most beautiful she had seen in her days.

Arwen said nothing of it for just as abruptly as it seemed to appear it was not there any longer. She knew of Vilya, the Ring of Power her father bore in his care, yet she had rarely ever seen it before.

* * *

1. _Blessed be your sleep._


	11. Golden Heart

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In this chap. I decided I wanted to show another side of Aragorn we do not see when he is with Arwen and such. But I want to thank everyone for reading my story! It's always enjoyable to read someone's review and what they have to say :). I realised this was going to be quite a long story, so hang in there! I also realised it will be very difficult to write the end :(. You all know what I mean. So enjoy this next ch.!!

Orcs began to multiply and trouble villages and people dwelling near the Misty Mountains. The Dúnedain became aware of this even before the people knew it was an issue for it was their own kin and families that were beleaguered. Sauron had a passionate hate for the Númenórean descendants that had done more damage to him than any other race since the Elves of the First Age, so his mighty will that drove his minions lead the orcs in the North to also hate the Edain almost as much as Elves.

Aragorn first knew of the new wave of attacks that were about to rise, and he commanded the Rangers all around Eriador to be aware and seek them out before anything happened. They were unwise to contend with such a skilled battle leader. He himself journeyed near the North Downs by Fornost of old, but came swiftly to the Misty Mountains where he knew some of the Rangers' wives and children dwelt for all the Dúnedain were scattered throughout the lost realm of Arnor.

He reached the base of the mountains at night when the sun had already set. The moon was veiled in a haze of clouds and the many trees created long shadows upon the earth. Aragorn felt no weariness for he was an enduring Ranger of the North who slept and ate little in the Wild. He continued to move over the land to find the first of the homes he knew of. It was situated in a small wood that climbed the mountainside, hidden from sight and near a cool mountain stream running down from the high places.

He knew even Edain women were wary and watchful at need as Rangers, so he made sure he was seen openly when he approached a wood-and-stone dwelling. He turned when he saw a woman in the shadows holding a long sword. To other eyes she could not be glimpsed in the dark so easily, yet Aragorn's sight was keen and sharp.

"You may show yourself," he said.

She stepped out of the trees and leaned on the glinting sword. It was newly sharpened. "Forgive me. I supposed you were of my kin, yet in these days I'm none too careful." She had pale eyes that glistened in the shadows and dark hair that hung braided down her back.

"That is well. I bring urgent word that Orcs have been showing their faces more of late, and in this area. Keep all of your children and everyone else inside at night as you are now."

"Yes, I saw one not but three days gone; alone, yes, but not for long. I would have slain him, yet I feared there were others nearby. We are keeping a guard on the land about us," she whispered. "The Dúnedain are vigilant; they will not catch us at unawares."

"That is not what worries me, for I indeed know of the courage in Edain women, but it is their numbers I wonder about. They also know of our strength in battle, so they will attack or raid in great force if they can."

She nodded and the forming wrinkles in her pale skin creased her face as she frowned slightly. "We are ready for whatever may happen. My two children have learnt much now," she said glancing towards the home, its windows dark. She sheathed her sword and again looked at Aragorn. "Would you care to come inside, Ranger, where it is warmer?"

"I would, yet I must move on tonight."

"The others are warned for I sent word to them at once, all that dwell here in the mountains. I would feel better if you spoke to me of the latest word. There is nothing more you can do this night for the others."

He thought silently for a moment. "If you wish it." He was wondering if she actually wished someone else to be there in case a band of orcs did come. The way she looked around in the trees' shadows confirmed his thought, though her stern face did not belie her true feelings of dread. They entered silently into her home, and Aragorn was again reminded of how diminished his people were. They once had all dwelt in houses of stone or great mansions across the Sea in abundant wealth and contentment; then had mighty fortresses and high towers in Middle-earth before their downfall. One day...it would be as it once was in days of prosperity and peace. He again vowed to complete his test if only to aid the Dúnedain whom he loved.

He had been standing as shrouded stone with his body erect and eyes shining in deep thought for a long moment. The Edain woman was amazed at how kingly he stood, his head nearing the ceiling for it was not high.

"My lord?" she said quietly. He looked down then upon her and she knew at once. "My Lord Aragorn! Is it really you?"

He smiled slightly and bowed. "Yes, it is I."

"Forgive me, I did not know for not all have seen your face, but all have heard the name of Aragorn son of Arathorn and are glad. You have brought us much honour for you are the most respectable lord we have yet had. I myself am pleased to have you here."

"Thank you," said Aragorn. "I am honoured to be in your home."

"I am Míriel daughter of Túrin. What news from the North?"

He told her of the troubles with the Orcs and what she should do so that at least one family would be prepared. It was not much, yet all they could really do was to flee their home to hide.

"Thank you, my lord," she said curtsying slightly in her dark woollen skirts. "Now I may rest better."

"For that I am glad. May the Valar keep you all." Aragorn departed as the moon was high in the dark heavens still obscured by the clouds scattered there. He moved swiftly through the wood, over an open vale in the mountains, and came to the stream that flowed over the dark rocks of the earth. Its tumbling song of sweet melodies brought to his mind thoughts of Rivendell where the water sprung out of the earth singing most beautifully.

Since the others had warning of the Orcs, he decided to remain in the area to search them out before they moved. He thought to look for strongholds higher in the mountains where they brooded in darkness. The next hour or so, Aragorn waited to do so by journeying in the vicinity of the Edain dwellings though he never neared enough to see them.

When he was returning to where he first had been, harsh cries split the night's silence. "Oh no..." Aragorn felt dread creep upon him when he realised the sound was from the direction of Míriel's home whom he had spoken to. He sprang away through the trees, over the slopes, and as swiftly as a bird flying overhead. The shouts of cold, merciless voices pushed him as they grew louder. A band of orcs had moved out of their hiding to attack and raid those they could find.

Aragorn rushed on until flickering flame washed his face in orange light up ahead. _The Valar save them_. Fires were burning and he hoped their home was not yet destroyed, but even more that the woman and her two children were safely away.

Suddenly an orc appeared before him looking a bit surprised. Aragorn swept out his sword, a great glimmering arc preceding the orc's swift death. Its dark blood stained the earth as he moved on with blade in hand. Now he could see the dwelling: it was not burning but all that was kept outside was alight as well as some of the trees about. Dark, hideous figures rushed about in a flurry of excitement, and their harsh, guttural tongue could be heard plainly as they shouted and jeered.

If the Orcs had challenged the Valar in the West after slaying hundreds of fair Elves and ravaging all that was beautiful in Middle-earth, they would have awoken no greater wrath as they had now for Aragorn had heard the screams of children as they were thrown to the ground after attempting to flee into the night. There were two orcs who looked down upon the young boy and his even younger sister with gleaming teeth and sharpened swords.

There was a drop from the slope coming down to the cleared area where Aragorn was rushing down. Like a shadow it came upon them and leaped from the overhanging knocking them to the ground. He had slain them in the fall and stood now, a looming figure that struck fear into their black hearts. The boy held his sister and felt hope return as their protector stood ready for the Orcs that were about them. Slowly he turned to challenge to approach with eyes aglow in the firelight. The Orcs quailed at the sight of the strange man who had so suddenly appeared out of the night, and took a long moment to gain enough hatred to charge him. Swift as a serpent he blocked their heavy blows and guarded the children with all his skill.

"Keep back," he called to the boy and girl as he swept the head from an orc after regaining his blade from one's stomach. They could not break him or near the guarded ones for his passion was terrible to behold. One by one they fell never to rise again. The rest fled for fear of the Ranger of the North, letting out wretched cries of defeat as they hastened away.

Aragorn saw that no more were left to fight, and he swiftly knelt before the Edain children trembling with fright. Their large grey eyes were shining with fear and they still held tightly to one another. He laid a hand on the boy's cheek and the other on the girl's head of dark hair.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently.

The boy shuddered. He could only be seven or eight years of age by his appearance. "Yes, my lord."

Aragorn gave a sigh of relief and opened his arms to them. "Come! We must find your mother." The little girl rushed into his arms without hesitation and her brother followed close. He lifted them in each arm, and asked if they knew where their mother had gone or if she was safe.

"I think...I think they killed her," sobbed the girl. She buried her head in his shoulder. Aragorn felt a sharp pain flicker in his heart, and he hurried with them to search for her. It did not take long for she sat slumped against the stone of her dwelling with a long gash in her leg and another on her shoulder. Aragorn feared she surely was slain until she stirred there upon the hard ground. He set the children down and rushed to her side.

"Míriel, awaken. The shadows are fled." She did not open her eyes. He laid a hand upon her brow as he closed his eyes.

Soon after she slowly lifted her blue eyes to his face. "Lord Aragorn...you have returned," she whispered. Blood was on her lips.

"Yes, and I must tend to you for time is against us. Lie still." The boy and his sister watched as he began his work, whispering in elvish, cleansing the wounds, and washing her brow. "Drink this," he said after he had crushed athelas into some clean water. Míriel did with his help, and colour returned to her pale cheeks. It was then that the twilight of dawn blanketed them in a soft, grey light as the fires burnt out and did not spread further through the trees.

"The fires of evil are quenched by your light," she smiled.

Aragorn stopped what he was doing and met her gaze. "If only it was enough to destroy it all." He wrung the cloth he had used. "You need to stay somewhere else tonight with your children. Do you have a horse?"

"They put it loose," said the boy where he sat with his knees drawn up to his chest. "He may be dead even after all this."

Aragorn sighed. "I should have stayed."

"No, all is well," said Míriel. "You have done much already."

Aragorn went into the forest and whistled a long piercing note. Soon afterwards, a slender horse came trotting towards him. He saddled it, helped the woman on, and accompanied them to another homestead deeper in the forest.

When they arrived an older man came out to greet them after spotting the horse from a distance. They were taken in immediately, yet the children lingered for a moment outside.

"Thank you, my lord," said the boy looking up at Aragorn.

He knelt to his height. "You are most welcome, lad. What is your name?"

"Húrin," he looked down at his sister, "and this is Elenna. We owe you our lives. We would have been slain if you had not come."

"You owe me nothing for you already have reminded me of whom I protect...and why." They embraced him once more before he departed those lands never to see them again, but the memory of him remained ever in their hearts.

* * *

Arwen was in good spirit and she greeted the Lord Elrond warmly one day when she saw him.

"Ah, Arwen," said Elrond. "You were not at the noon meal."

"Yes, I felt no need for refreshment today," she said. "All I had need of was to contemplate and be at ease."

He smiled slightly and nodded. "Of course. Many of my days are such it seems when you have so much time in your grasp, but I am afraid I have not time to stay with you now for I must speak of important things with a guest that has arrived. He has much to tell."

"That is well. Who is this guest you speak of?" Arwen asked.

Elrond smiled slightly. "It is Mithrandir."

"Mithrandir? May I accompany you to meet with him?" she asked Elrond eagerly.

He nodded and said, "It is well with me, and he will not mind at all. He is quite the curious wizard and enjoys the company of any Elf; especially a child of the Lord Elrond."

Elrond and Arwen entered into a room where there sat a stooping man who appeared aged like the eldest of Men with long grey hair and beard. His eyes sparkled like dark stars, and his thin lips seemed as though quick to smile. He was puffing on a long carved pipe that looked of elven make, yet Elves never smoked so she knew it must have been a special gift to Mithrandir. Arwen had met him once before many long years ago, when there had been a meeting of the White Council, getting on well with him at once and him with her.

He turned his head as he puffed out a smoke ring and smiled warmly. "Ah, Elrond. There you are. I have been waiting for you for some time now," he chuckled. His voice was low and slightly guttural but soothing to the ear. His expression changed when he saw the Evenstar standing beside Elrond for there was surprise in his eyes. Gandalf stood slowly to greet her.

"Gandalf, Arwen had returned to Imladris at last and wished to see you," said Elrond.

Gandalf smiled again and bowed over Arwen's hand. "In all my travels I've still never seen one so lovely, Arwen. It's a wonder even the Elves could keep silent of you for there is no talk of you in lands of Men. Now what of you? I have not seen your face for too long," he said taking her hand. His was quite warm.

Arwen smiled and said, "Well, there is little to tell, my friend, or not enough to interest you. Elrond shall have his chance to speak with you; but what of you, Gandalf?"

Gandalf chuckled and they all sat near the high balcony that looked out over much of Rivendell. "I suppose I shall begin in the telling, fair maiden. We have plenty of time while I am here." Long they sat there listening to the enchanting words of Gandalf the Grey who told of who he had spoken to on his journeys, where he had stayed in different lands, and what had happened in the time he was absent. Arwen paid closer attention when she heard him mention Aragorn's name, and she knew Gandalf would eventually realise the connection between them if she did not mention it herself.

"That is all I have to tell," he said finally when the sun began its descent into the West. "I can say no more." Arwen laughed softly. "Such a strange thing that has happened here in such dark days, now a light shines through the shadows. We have surely been blessed with your presence. Your coming signals the beginning of great things."

Arwen felt discomfited by his compliments. "I thank you, Gandalf. You are indeed much too generous with your words and a wonderful friend."

He chuckled once again. "And I thank you, Arwen," He paused gazing at her with his dark eyes brimming with an ancient wisdom. "I was going to talk with Master Elrond here, yet I ask you to stay for I would much desire to hear your thoughts. I understand if you wish to leave us now so as not to hear the troubles of the world."

"They do not worry me for no longer shall I allow the Shadow to darken my spirit, Gandalf. Only if Middle-earth falls to darkness will I feel the despair of wickedness fall upon me as it had once before. Never again."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Master Elrond, I shall stay here a little while. It has been long since I was in Rivendell and seen such easing beauty. I also have a great need to put my thoughts in order, so perhaps we shall speak later," said Gandalf.

"Of course. I shall leave you here order your thoughts for I also have things to tend to briefly. Arwen, will you come with me then?"

She looked at Elrond and back to Gandalf, then smiled slightly at Elrond. "Of course. I shall speak with you at another time perhaps?"

Gandalf nodded. "Indeed. I look forward to our time together." He watched as the mighty Elf-lord departed with his fair and noble daughter at his side in resplendent brilliance. He had made many journeys with Aragorn and had slowly determined that there was a deep, special place in his heart for the daughter of Elrond, Master of Rivendell. A slight smile appeared on his lips as he leaned back with his pipe.


	12. Mithrandir

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far! Thank you so much for reading my story and giving such lovely reviews. Enjoy ch. 12!! (even though its a sort of in-between chap. that can be a tad boring)

One evening while Gandalf the Grey was in Rivendell, Arwen came unto him where he stood gazing over the land in the library. He did not have his pipe this time, but appeared a noble lord troubled by age, yet with sparkling eyes that knew much more than was spoken. He wore a soft smile when she stood beside him.

"Undómiel, it's delightful to see you again. Elrond has spoken only praise of his noble daughter since I've come here. How have you fared in all this time we have not seen each other?"

"Very well," she said, "though my greatest wish has not yet appeared to near its fulfilment."

"And what is that wish?"

"That the Dark Lord and all his destruction would pass from Middle-earth so that all Free Folk would no longer bear the burden of his wickedness and war. Only then will my heart be glad indeed."

Gandalf was accounted of the wisest in Endorenna not without foundation for he perceived many things. In Arwen Evenstar's eyes there was a faint light not shrouded by the gloom of that Age when she spoke of Sauron's end. "Yet it is not only for all Free Folk you would be glad, but for yourself as well. Is there something Elrond has not spoken of?"

Arwen looked into his fiery eyes beneath dark brows of great length. "Only then shall I come to the one I love to be with him till death itself parts us."

"This one...he is of mortals?"

"Yes, and I see that you are much more aware than I recall. You know his name as well, I deem." She waited as he was silent for a long moment tapping his fingers on the ledge he leaned against. He knew the answer, yet did not speak the man's name aloud.

"Elrond does not approve of your decision, and most assuredly has tried to persuade you against it."

"Truly, yes, for he does not wish to lose yet another of his blood. He has born many losses already in life. Only Eru himself can sway my choice for nothing now may sever the bond of Aragorn Arathorn's son and I. In these dreadful years we must be apart, yet if the end comes at last of the dark reign...never again will we be separated as we are now." She lowered her head. "It is a dream I often have when the day has been dreary and worn. If only it would be fulfilled..."

Gandalf paused in his words of comfort when Arwen smiled sadly as a single crystal tear trickled down her flawless cheek. Her voice had become faint like the murmuring of a brook as her words trailed off. He laid a creased hand over hers that lightly rested on the ledge in fatherly consolation. She still stared down at nothing that he could see and said no more, yet a grateful smile flickered across her flushed lips.

* * *

Gandalf and Arwen spoke only twice more with one another when either was not occupied with others or with their own thoughts. One of these times was in the midst of winter when the leaves had fallen and the morning dew turned to frost upon the grass. The streams and rivers had become chilled with the winter air, yet the cold wind disturbed the Elves little for harsh weather does not touch them as easily as mortals; although they do not walk about in the snow or rain without cloak or mantle.

Arwen's radiant face was shrouded by the hood of her cerulean velvet cloak draping about her slender form to keep away the slight chill of the winter air that stirred in great gusts through Imladris. The ground she walked upon was hard and barren, and no longer did she wander upon the earth unshod while the cold season lasted. She halted before a high tree whose branches were now bare but still stood tall and regal with its grey bark glistening in the dim sunlight. She looked up upon it and slowly reached out a hand to lay against its dark skin.

Gandalf had also wandered into the region without knowing who else had come to that quiet place. He did not lean upon his staff—or even have it with him—as he did in his long travels, yet he had never really stood straight and tall for many long years as his appearance became that of an aged man. His long, grey robes merged with the pale and muted colours about him. He stroked his long, grey beard as he continued forward until he looked ahead only to find the Evenstar gazing upon a bare tree. He also noted her pale hand gleaming upon it: a light shining in the dreary world of winter.

She lowered her head and gradually lifted her hand away from the bole of the tree. "Mithrandir," she said, "you have been quiet of late. I deem that is not a common thing to be had from you." She turned to face him, standing some yards away under the cover of only the grey-blue heavens, with eyes glimmering.

"No indeed," he said stepping forward. "There are many things of this Age that trouble me, and I'm trying to figure them out one by one...yet, I fear, it is not working well. So many things..." He nodded his head for a moment as he stared at the ground beneath his feet. "Ah! But such things are too troublesome to lay upon others. That is why I am called the Grey Pilgrim...always travelling and meddling in the affairs of Middle-earth whether it be Men, Elves, or Dwarves."

"And so you have many names, Mithrandir. It must be grand to journey across the far reaches of Endorenna; to see many cities and kingdoms that many have only seen on a map or heard the name in accounts of others."

His face became grave. "And to see the Shadow reach out its fingers to all these places and glimpse the darkness that falls upon many hearts. On the surface it is indeed engaging and one does see many kindreds and dwellings of all people, yet once you wade further in...many dark and hopeless things appear before your very eyes. I may aid several rulers and kingdoms, but with a price of knowledge."

"Then I am glad my place is not as you for my heart is too tender to the suffering or loss of hope of people. I could not bear to stand by as they fell."

"That is why I was given this task."

They had made their way towards the entrance of the dwelling of the Lord Elrond where a high arch of engraved stone marked the way, and now a rider came swiftly through on a horse of noble bearing and a flowing white mane. It was an Elf with a mantle of elven-grey upon his shoulders and long, shimmering hair of pale gold. He dismounted as he drew up near them.

"1. Aiya, arquen quende," said Arwen.

He turned his grey eyes upon her and bowed low with a hand on his breast. A long bow was slung over his shoulder beside a quiver of keen-tipped arrows. "Lady Evenstar, I am honoured to once again enjoy your fair presence."

"Thank you," she said softly. "You bring word from Lórien?"

"I do...for the Lord Elrond." He glanced over his shoulder. "Is he unoccupied at the time being?"

"I do not know, yet he will accept you anyway if you bring word from Lady Galadriel or Lord Celeborn. He will wish to hear what they have to say in these times."

The slender Elf nodded and bowed once again. "Thank you, my lady." His eyes found Gandalf's. "Ai! Mithrandir! It is well to see you here."

"As it is you, fair Elf. Is news from the Golden Wood of good...or ill?"

His eyes darkened. "Not of good, yet perhaps not wholly of ill either. Master Elrond shall speak of it in time, I am sure. Fare you well, 2. meldor. You are missed in Lothlórien, fair Evenstar, for you are ever a hope to our people."

"Thank you again," she said with a slight smile. "I am most fond of my kindred in the South."

He also smiled and turned to lead his horse away and deliver his message to the Lord of Rivendell. Arwen watched with a distant glaze upon her bright eyes, yet she looked then to Gandalf who also seemed occupied in his thoughts. He was near to speaking aloud as was his wont.

"More things to divert you attention," she murmured. "Let us hasten inside so that we may hear the new word as soon as my father has heard it."

"Of course," he mumbled still not quite present. "Of course."

* * *

As Arwen and Gandalf were making their way towards Elrond's study, another Elf they met in that fair hall. He had caught sight of them as they entered from the chill outside and was approaching them swiftly.

Arwen saw who it was and felt pity arise in her heart once again. "Cemendur," she murmured. Gandalf heard but said nothing. His eyes were, as usual, glittering with unspoken thought that few could know without his explanation.

Cemendur greeted them warmly. "Of all the pairs, you have been the most unlikely today. It is a pleasant thing to see you both for there are none others I would have wished to meet."

Gandalf nodded his head to him. "Greetings, Cemendur. Your speech is fair in such a bleak day."

Cemendur smiled. "As I had hoped." His eyes fell upon Arwen. "You saw the rider from Lórien, did you not?"

"Yes, and spoke briefly with him. Elrond is speaking with him now."

"I should very much like to also speak with him and hear of the Golden Wood. They were little troubled last I knew, yet...the days are uncertain in this dark age. Orcs may be pressing upon the borders or even stepping foot inside the protected realm. If they are, they will learn quickly that it will never prevail."

"Indeed," said Gandalf. "Lady Galadriel has never been truly troubled with them, nor will she be ever for that land is of the most vigilant and well- guarded in all of Middle-earth." His bushy brows drew down in thought and Arwen caught the murmur of "as the Shire is, I hope."

Cemendur nodded but looked again to Arwen with shining eyes. She met his gaze unwillingly and did not turn away until Gandalf spoke again. "The Lady Arwen and I must go now to Master Elrond and speak with him in close quarters, my friend. I'm pleased to have met you, Cemendur, yet we must move on in haste."

Cemendur bowed low and stood aside for them. Arwen glanced over her shoulder as they passed him by seeing that he was gazing upon her with a radiant light overflowing from his fair face.

"I owe you my thanks," she murmured when they were well away. "He is a dear, noble Elf, yet...he has taken too closely to me and does not miss any opportunity to be at my side."

"Many Elves would feel the same way," said Gandalf. "Does he know of Aragorn?"

"No, he does not, Mithrandir. That is why I fear for him. I will not return his love, and so I fear his heart would be broken if he has become too besotted, as I have seen. If I tell him, he may be dispirited with such dark tidings for which I do not wish. Yet it is the only way now."

"If you do not tell him," said Gandalf in his guttural, rich voice, "then he will eventually know. Especially if Aragorn himself comes to Rivendell seeking for you and Cemendur discovers this. Take care, dear Evenstar. Take care."

* * *

After hearing tidings from Lothlórien, Arwen felt in her heart a pull to return among her kin there in that fair forest. Gandalf had need to depart Imladris as well, and so he soon was gone. She then went unto her father and spoke with him of the matter for she knew he despaired to see her take leave.

"Then I shall have an escort for you as before," he murmured, gently placing a comforting hand over hers. "It has been long since you have gone."

"This shall be the last instance of my journeying to Lórien unless there is a greater end I do not see. If I travel there again, it will not be without many in my company, you included."

Elrond wondered which end it would be, yet he said nothing of his thoughts to his beloved daughter. "Be careful, 3. yendenya, for more perils emerge each day and each month that we cannot hold back in the lands that the Elves do not rule, and the Rangers' protecting hand only reaches so far."

"No harm shall reach my escort, 4. atar. We have had little trouble on our journeys to Lórien." So Arwen Undómiel departed once more for the land of her mother's kin where she was accepted with great joy and glad hearts; especially by Galadriel who had become a mentor and friend in the absence of Celebrían.

* * *

Aragorn came again to the Elven-city of Imladris to rest from his laborious journeys and with a heart filled with longing to again see his beloved's shining face. Yet she was not there. She was again with her kin in Lothlórien. He was dispirited by the word of her absence, yet he took rest nonetheless.

He had been searching for the creature Gollum after Gandalf had asked him to aid him in the hunt for he had possessed the One Ring of Power long years ago before the hobbit Bilbo Baggins. Gandalf and he had tracked Gollum for a few years now, yet had found no fresh trails to tread in all their journeys. Aragorn was the greatest in pursuit and hunting, yet it had prevailed them little in the hunt. They had now both abandoned the fruitless chase.

An Elf almost at his exact height was hastening down the corridor where Aragorn was strolling. He had golden hair like that of Glorfindel—if not quite as golden—and was a very fair Elf. He did not even glance at Aragorn when they passed each other in the hall. Aragorn glanced behind him as surprise halted him for a moment. Whenever an Elf spotted him in Rivendell they would immediately greet him warmly in their own tongue for he was known among them all. _The Elf must have had something very important on his mind_.

The worry slipped from his shoulders like water when he caught sight of someone he knew. Someone he knew very well. A wide grin broke across his hard features as Elladan approached him also wearing a shining smile. They clasped each other's arms in a brotherly tryst.

Elladan laughed. "You are getting too tall these days, 5. toron. You have finally over passed me."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "I became as tall as you long ago, Elladan. You knew I would be higher when I began shooting up as a tree sapling in spring." He laughed at Elladan's own raised eyebrow.

"I never thought you would get quite so tall, taller than and as tall as many Elves. In any case, I still can best you at everything else." The grin returned even brighter than before. Aragorn knew what words were to follow as he glimpsed the glint in his grey eyes. "Are you still attempting to use that bow of yours?"

"Of course."

"All right then, it is settled," said Elladan. "We shall have a match of our skills once again to see if you have improved any." He laughed lightly. "Although I doubt the fact..."

Aragorn almost sighed with exasperation. Elladan enjoyed taunting him, always trying to arouse his sense of competition so he could challenge him properly. It never worked even when Aragorn was old enough to be challenged by his adopted, older brother.

"First I must have my own bow, 6. toronnya, so I will come and meet you wherever it is you wish. Where shall we take our match of skills?"

Elladan turned to look to the side. "The usual place. I shall have Elrohir come as well." Elladan made a flourishing bow with a laugh as he bent back straight again.

Aragorn made a derisive bow of his own, the grin returning to his face as well. "Till then," he said. Elladan was still chuckling quietly as he glided down the hall once more.

* * *

_1. Greetings, noble Elf_

_2. friends_

_3. my daughter_

_4. father_

_5. brother_

_6. my brother_


	13. Elladan and Elrohir

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Valia-Elf: Thank you very much for reading my story! I love reading your reviews :) and I am glad you enjoy it so much. You really make we want to keep writing. lindahoyland: You also have kept me writing this story because of your lovely reviews and how you've been there since ch. 1 :). Thank you very much. And thank you to everyone else on here (Eldarwen Elanesse). PLEASE REVIEW!! Enjoy ch. 13!!!

Aragorn held a shining smile as he went his own way to his quarters which was in the same area where Elves abided and travellers also. He hurriedly splashed his face and hands clean with crystal water in a large bowl covered with vines and leaves of emerald green set on sky blue. It was made of thin porcelain. He glanced at himself in a mirror that hung in a corner unused, grimacing at the site of his hair and clothes.

_I cannot go about Rivendell like this_, he thought. He hurriedly had a bath drawn up to wash away the grime of travel but quickly cleansed himself so that the twins would not have to wait long.

By the time he had freshened up, changed into clean garments, and grabbed his elven-made bow, time had passed quickly. Elladan and Elrohir would give him a tongue-lashing for taking so long. He suddenly felt as if time had shifted to when he was first learning to use the bow properly by the elven- twins. A memory from that time rushed to him:

_The sun slanted through the eaves of the trees and through the leaves setting them alight with gold. The clearing in the forest in Imladris was carpeted with thick, lush grass, and small lavender flowers flourished in the shadows of the mighty trees along the edge where tree roots and grass merged. In the clearing laden with gold light of the setting sun, two tall Elves with dark, glimmering hair stood leaning on bows of yew wood, engraved with silver leaves all along their slender length. The two Elves' faces looked so much alike that it was difficult to tell them apart. Elladan and Elrohir were the sons of Elrond and brothers to the Heir of Isildur...if not by blood. Estel had been taken in at two years of age when his father, Arathorn, was slain fighting Orcs. Gilraen, Estel's mother, had also come to Rivendell. Estel was actually Aragorn II but he was named 'hope' in the Elvish tongue to hide his lineage till the time came for him to know everything; the truth of his birth. _

_Estel was ten and eight years of age now; tall, extremely handsome, and skilled with sword and bow, if not as well with the latter. That was the reason for being there in the clearing with the sons of Elrond who were as close brothers to him. They had taught him many things others would not just because he was a Man, not of Elfkind. Elrohir and Elladan always came to his defence when other Elves thought of him as a lesser being not worth teaching, but through the years he had grown and in more ways than one. With that growth came admiration from those who had scorned him as a child. With knowledge and wisdom of an Elf, movement and voice of an Elf, and healing and greatness of one he became renowned among both Men and Elves even at his age. They often spoke of his future and who he would become when the time finally came for him. There had been no men like unto him in many ages of this world. _

_But now his 'brothers' were giving him lessons with the longbow. Estel was now as tall as they which irked them at times. He stood at their side listening and watching as a student to a teacher; well...almost. A sly grin pushed the corners of his mouth whenever the twins began to speak of their ability—and all Elves as a matter of fact—with shooting arrows. _

_His smile always seemed to turn heads, although they were in the elven-city of Rivendell. Elrond did not mention Estel's true lineage to anyone that inquired of him that did not already know. Even the Elves were not given the implacable secret kept for so long. Elrond knew that the day was nigh approaching that he would have to reveal to Estel what he had not spoken of in years. _

_"Pull it back as far as you can, but since we are practising you might let it loosen a little," Elladan said demonstrating with his own bow stretching it as far as he could. Estel concealed another grin as he watched with his keen grey eyes holding a light like that of the Elves. _

_Elrohir also demonstrated but he actually fired a shot into a thick bole of a tree about two hundred yards. Estel nodded his approval of the good shot. It hit the tree solidly in the middle where Elladan's own arrow struck moments later. The two arrows were stuck together. _

_"Well done, toronnya," Elrohir laughed. "Now let us see how Estel our younger brother fares. Take a shot and we shall see how you do." _

_Estel smiled that brilliant smile and drew an arrow from his quiver, strung it in his own elven-made bow, and shot in one fluid movement as quick as the Elves. The silver tipped arrow struck the tree right on top of the other arrows before it. Elladan and Elrohir suppressed faces of surprise as they stared at the bole of the large tree. _

_Elrohir cleared his throat after a long moment of silence. "I...well...good shot," he said. Elladan only nodded his head. Estel glanced at them trying to keep his composure instead of bursting into laughter at the expression on their faces. They were contorted with astonishment and awe at the same time for it had been long since they had seen him use the bow. _

_Estel bowed with his head almost to the ground. He laughed when he straightened. Elrohir and Elladan joined in the laughter not long after even louder than he. Soon Elrohir was sitting on the ground laughing till tears rolled down his cheeks. _

_He choked out, "Oh Estel, you have shown us what we could not see. We have been humbled." _

_"Yes, I think this may not be a lesson any longer," Elladan added wiping his fair face with the sleeve of his dark brown tunic. Now they all sat on the ground recuperating after a long needed dose of joy. Elladan's face grew calm again. "Estel, when did you learn to shoot so well? We have not taught you in months." _

_Estel met the Elf's grey gaze. "You are not the only one to teach me." He sat straighter without thinking. "Glorfindel has quite the skill with the bow." He almost began laughing again when Elladan and Elrohir both stared at him with the exact same expression. He was one of the few who could actually tell the two apart but even for him they looked almost the same. _

_Elladan rolled his eyes. "Of course! We should have known. Glorfindel has always had a soft spot for you, brother, ever since he saw your potential as a young child. Remember that time you were eight years of age and you began to be taught by different Elves for all sorts of things? You showed much talent in everything you did. Glorfindel did not really realise there was a Man living here in Imladris till then." _

_"I thank you both for your praise, but it is not needed any more than a horse needs a saddle. Someone may train it to wear one after some time, but if you do things properly the horse has no necessity for that saddle. So is a man who hears praises in his ear too often as the horse trained with the saddle to be ridden."_

Aragorn suddenly awakened from his memory and looked about him. No one was there. He let out a breath he had held when he first came out of his deep memory as though it had only occurred the day before. If anyone had passed him in greeting they would have gotten no response. Those last words he remembered coming surprisingly from his lips so many years of Men gone of which the brothers had been surprised to hear. Something had stirred that inside of him that day as if a new life was only just beginning: a path less travelled and the one he must walk upon with no other choice before him though he tried to find another. Now that path was becoming more and more entangled in his mind. More and more dangerous; and glorious. A shudder ran through him. Such thoughts always made him uncomfortable. Thoughts of the future; his future.

When his feet touched the grass-covered earth he began to run. He ran until he came to the same clearing he had first equalled his skill with the sons of Elrond. The two Elves were already there waiting. There were also a few arrows embedded in a sort of target they had made about a hundred yards away.

When he entered the clearing his feet lightly touched the ground, making no noise that even elven-hearing could discern. Elladan and Elrohir were jesting lightly as he came up behind them. As soon as he was within ten feet they did not necessarily hear, but felt him more than anything, and turned round to find Aragorn watching them with a slight smile.

"Ah, he is here at last," Elrohir said tilting his head slightly.

Aragorn gave a slight bow. "Once again we are here hoping to best each other when all other times we have never neared winning. We should give up on the bow, my brothers. Do you really believe one of us might have grown better?"

Elladan shrugged his slim shoulders. "Perhaps. Something could have happened over the years."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. Something?

"I shall go first," Elladan broke in. "My skin itches to watch you two fall short of what I accomplish." Elladan broke out laughing merrily as Aragorn and Elrohir exchanged amused looks as their brother took his first shot. It was a fine one even for an Elf.

Elrohir huffed loudly. "Is that as well as you can aim, toron?" He strung an arrow and stood studying his target two hundred yards away; as far as the tree the last time they contended with each other, this time the goal was not quite the same width creating a more difficult situation. Elrohir let loose.

"Good," Aragorn murmured. He leaned on his bow decorated with swirling gold colouring in the middle where he put his hand. "Let us see whose luck runs truer."

* * *

Gandalf came to Rivendell the next day to give a message in person to the Chieftain of the Dúnedain. Aragorn listened carefully to what Gandalf told him with wonder sparkling in his eyes merging with a trace of dread. The One Ring might have been found. Gandalf did not have to say it plainly; Aragorn sifted through his words enamelled with worry about the strange ring Bilbo had possessed. It was now in the hands of Bilbo's younger cousin because of its dangerous attraction. 

"What would you have me do?" Aragorn asked quietly, splaying his hands.

"Your men have done a great service for me...and for the Halflings. I fear I must ask, though, for a sharper and closer guard on the Shire. There is something stirring there I cannot stop, and it worries me that this ring that is now in the keeping of Frodo Baggins may be dangerous. Sometimes I fear for him also..." his voice faded into secret thoughts. Gandalf had a habit—that Aragorn observed after only a few years of knowing him—of speaking his thoughts aloud, yet not this time. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as the seemingly old man pondered things. It was rare for him to be so quiet when thinking. Whatever it was he thought must be important indeed. Of course. Gandalf would not mention the One Ring aloud very readily.

"I will assist this myself," said Aragorn. "The Dúnedain need me...At least, that is what I feel. They also can feel the shadow rising from the earth. Gandalf, dear friend, the Shire will not be left to the Dark One...or whoever else has taken an interest."

Gandalf smiled through his grey beard that hung to his waist. Gladness and secrecy glinted in his sharp eyes. "Thank you, my friend." He rose slowly to his feet, carefully taking the old, gnarled staff he always carried in his hand. Another gleam lit up his eyes shining out from that face creased with age. "Where is that lovely maiden I hear tell of? Undómiel is it?"

"The Evenstar of her people," he murmured, "who has returned to Lórien to be with her people there in that fair forest." He had not asked Elrond, but the Elf-maiden Elenwë who had spoken with Arwen before. She had departed some time ago after a messenger of Lothlórien had arrived in Rivendell. "If only she..."

He was cut off by a strong, pleasant voice. "Mithrandir! Once again we meet in times of trouble." Elrond's face was broken with a grim smile. Aragorn watched his father move to sit beside his long-time friend, Gandalf the Grey.

Gandalf nodded to him warmly. "It's always a pleasure to come here," he said thoughtfully. "There is no place like it in all of Middle-earth."

Elrond thanked him and met Aragorn's gaze. Aragorn knew what the look meant for he had to discuss certain things with Mithrandir that were not pleasant or things Aragorn needed to hear.

Aragorn also nodded to the tall Elf and stood slowly. "I shall see you tonight as we dine, my friend," he said looking to Gandalf and then to Elrond, "and you as well, 1. atarinya."

Elrond watched the young man—in elven terms—leave the room in silence. He could not help but smile at how Elf-like the Heir of Isildur had become. Everything about him could have matched or surpassed many Elves there in Imladris. His face, framed by glinting dark hair, was chiselled with lines of maturity, making him appear as fair as the Elves; yet perhaps a bit more handsome than beautiful. That was the reason he was precarious in the lands of Men. He attracted attention immediately around lesser Men for he had a noble bearing and face like no other, yet his eyes especially were noticed immediately by others for they shone with the light of the stars. There appeared to be much more Elvish in him than Elendil himself.

Elrond was shaken out of his scrutiny by a clearing of the throat by Gandalf. Sometimes the wizard could be blunt, yet Elrond enjoyed his company each time they met over the many years. "Gandalf, you take a strong liking to the boy."

Gandalf did not smile, but his eyes glinted. "I would not call him a boy, Lord Elrond. Have you really looked at him since he first learned of his lineage?"

Elrond's dark eyebrows rose in amazement at how it seemed Gandalf had read his mind. He should not have been surprised for the Istari had done it before, more than once after knowing him for years uncounted. Had he really seen Aragorn as a matured man till now? He was already seventy-three.

"Gandalf, you walk on tender ground. It seems only a moment ago I realised my mistake. Aragorn is as wise as many who dwell here or in Lothlórien. Be careful," he chuckled, "or he will surpass you some day soon, my friend. That man is growing faster than I can ever keep track...and in more ways than one. I am proud for him."

Elrond leaned on his elbow deep in sudden thought. Gandalf watched carefully and nodded in agreement for Elrond was not the only one to observe the remarkable traits in the Heir of Kings. Something was stirring in him stronger than had been since the First Age.

"Another subject I must ask of," Gandalf began, "is on your beloved daughter. I have seen quite the fiery spirit in her, not much different than you, Elrond." A wide grin spread across his aged face when he saw the indignant look the Elf-lord gave him. _He always was the fireheart like the rest of his blood. There is no persuading them once they set their will—as firmly as a rock_. "She has been taken by the heart, I fear, and has herself grasped on, never letting go even after death. Yes...death. She will become mortal once the time comes."

"No! I cannot let it be!" Elrond cried jumping to his feet in one fluid motion. "She is too beloved to me to let go. If she is to grasp to something it should be the ship to the Lonely Isle into the West with her own kin."

"Elrond," Gandalf chided as if to a child, "you cannot be with her forever. Her heart is no longer given unto you as her father, but to another who has also given her his full heart and love. There is no other way, my friend. There is no other way. The world will fall if they do not come together at last when all is conquered."

Elrond shook his head in wonder and lowered his head slightly. "Well-hidden inside I feel it, yet...my heart still denies it. She loves him too much to ever abandon him as you said, Gandalf. I fear also that their hearts are entwined so strongly that nothing will separate them, not even me." Gandalf was looking at his feet as well. They both were silent.


	14. Confrontation

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks everyone! Valia-Elf: yeah, I have noooo idea how I write so much. It just sort of comes to me, I suppose, when I am typing and I really cannot write short stories for some reason :). There is some confrontation in this ch. with a certain two men so...enjoy!!!

Elrond held a pen poised in his hand to write. He was going over a message in his mind he was going to send. A light knock on his door made him look up.

1. "Manië?" he called.

An Elf opened the door and entered. 2. "Herunya, coln hortalë menta i Atanillo."

Elrond thanked the golden-haired Elf and carefully opened the letter that was sealed with the sign of the Dúnedain. He was wondering what was so important that the Dúnedain felt they needed to inform him of it with a letter. His heart plummeted when he read the message and he set it down on his desk. Gilraen had passed away two days ago.

* * *

Aragorn smiled slightly as they neared the borders of Rivendell. 'They' included himself and four other Rangers of the North who were under his command. The four of them were good men whom he had always admired. The horse in their midst carried a cart behind it laden in black cloth for there laid his mother, wife of the last Heir of Isildur and Chieftain of the Dúnedain, who passed away not long ago. Aragorn wished he could have been there with her so she would not have been alone in her last moments. 

The small group halted for the night on the safe borders and slept for a short time before proceeding. It was many days since Aragorn had left for his mother. Aragorn lay flat on the ground with his hands beneath his head and the soft earth as his bed. His bright eyes searched the heavens where the stars danced with light. One star caught his attention that glistened brightest in the night. It reminded him painfully of the fate he had brought upon a maiden brilliant as the stars themselves. He closed his eyes and saw her face, fairer than mortals.

"Captain, it is time," a voice called through the darkness.

Aragorn's eyes opened and he sat up in one instant. "I am sorry, I did not know I was so weary," he said to the fellow Dúnadan called Mallor. "I did not even realise I was asleep."

"Do not apologise. I had to wake the others as well. You are not the only one who is weary of travels," said Mallor. "I myself am feeling the need of rest."

Aragorn was soon up and ready to continue on to Rivendell that laid so near. They left no sign of their encampment that night. The stars still shone as bright as ever in the night sky for they had not slept the night through, and the moon was making its descent behind the tall mountains. There was no sound except for the chirping of night birds that were few even there. The five of them made their way silently through the trees till they came to a clearing and became wary for any sign of another living thing that could be a threat in any way. It was not much time before the small travelling company found the wild road that led down into the valley of Imladris. The way was precarious at some points because of the steep path going down. But at the end of the road it was more rewarding than anything in the Northern lands of Middle- earth for the Last Homely House of Master Elrond was more beautiful than any other and the land was richly fertile.

Aragorn knew he had duties to tend to and many things to take care of and people to lead, yet he felt more at home in Rivendell than anywhere else; even with his own kin. Part of the reason was of his raising in Rivendell from the age of two years to when he was far older. It also had a peace about it and warmth that could not be matched. The starlight cast a silvery sheen on the dwellings planting a light inside anyone who watched carefully with a keen eye of wisdom.

The five noble men soon heard the sound of sweet singing that came from not far away. They immediately knew they had crossed the borders and were about to meet a band of wandering Elves along their way. It lifted their hearts and Aragorn smiled, breaking his stern features as his eyes flashed in the starlight. There were three Elves walking slowly but majestically towards the travelling Dúnedain. The Elves knew there was no threat of enemies in them so they seemed to not pay any heed to the Men; until Aragorn hailed them in his clear voice with the elvish ring it still held.

"Ai! Dúnadan!" cried one of pale hair. "I am glad to see you again after your journey."

"The same of you, Lindir. How go things in Rivendell?" said Aragorn.

Lindir smiled. "Well, I believe, though Master Elrond has been more secluded of late than he has in some time. I wonder..." Lindir shook his head. "Ah, let us not speak of it. It is his own business, my friend."

"Of course," Aragorn nodded.

"Come! Join us in our singing for we enjoy your company. Your voice would add to the beauty of our mirth, and we have not seen one another since months ago."

Aragorn looked down with a drawn face. "I would, my friend, but for the need that presses me this day and my kin who accompany me tonight. I shall lead them on until we come to Master Elrond, and he will instruct them where they shall rest for the night and the next few days if they wish," he said. "Will you stay long?" His question was directed to the four Dúnedain.

Mallor stepped forward and said, "Nay, for we must also tend to our duties, not you alone, Lord Aragorn. Borders and people need safekeeping more than ever these days and we must carry on our responsibility. If you wish us we will stay tonight at this serene abode, yet that is all we can spare."

"Of course," bowed Lindir. "Just remember you, of the Edain, are always welcome here in the Elven-city of Imladris."

Mallor thanked him and bowed slightly.

"Then we shall be on our way and proceed to the House of Elrond," said Aragorn. The Elves left them and continued their glorious singing in the starlight.

* * *

"Greetings, my son! Please cleanse and rest yourself this night and let the weariness slip from your shoulders," Master Elrond said warmly. Aragorn smiled only slightly and said, "Of course, Lord Elrond. Thank you for giving care to my men as well. They shall appreciate it greatly in the morning, I am sure, if they do not already." 

Elrond nodded. The two were walking side by side now down the halls of Rivendell. They were alike even though they were only distantly of the same blood; their hair was both dark and their eyes an intense grey, but Aragorn almost stood taller than the great Elf-lord and lore-master. He was also more powerfully built; but Elrond held a greater wisdom of long years in the depth of his eyes for he had seen many ages of the world though it had left little mark in his appearance because of his immortality. Aragorn took on some of that wisdom and his own for he was elven-wise, making him the wisest of Men.

"I understand it must be difficult for you, yet I know your grief," Elrond said on a heavier note. "I miss the one I lost long ago every day."

Aragorn lost the merry look in his eye as his face turned to stone. "Yes, yet we must not remember the sorrows of their death and we must move on in our lives. But it is good to remember them, always, in a good light," he said speaking of both Gilraen and Celebrían, Elrond's wife who had gone in to the West after a deadly poisoned, orc-arrow.

"I try to think that way. It is challenging at times," said Elrond. "To lose someone who it seems you have not known long enough can be very difficult."

Aragorn said nothing. He knew Elrond was not speaking of his beloved alone: Arwen Evenstar, his daughter, was most precious to him. He wondered if Elrond had meant to say it as a point to him. _Perhaps I am reading into his words more deeply than I should_, he thought. Then Aragorn noticed an Elf striding towards them with smooth, quick steps. His pale gold hair shimmered in the soft light of the stars, and his face was fair like the moon.

"Good evening Cemendur," said Elrond looking up though he had not seemed to observe him before.

"To you as well, my lord," the tall Elf said in a liquid voice like pristine waters. "It is a most beautiful night with the stars shining brighter than ever."

"Yes," said Elrond turning his eyes on Aragorn. "Cemendur, you have never had the pleasure of meeting Aragorn son of Arathorn...my son in a manner of speaking." He spoke with deep pride in his voice and a glint in his eyes that made Aragorn feel more at ease under the cold stare of Cemendur. Elrond's voice lowered. "He is the Heir of Isildur who has remained hidden in my house all his life. There is none like to him in this age, and I am glad you have this privilege to finally see him; the man who is spoken of as a legend." He laughed quietly when he saw the look of indignation and chagrin on Aragorn's face.

Cemendur's eyes only seemed to grow colder and sterner when he heard of Aragorn's name and high lineage; but a forced smile spread across his face and he bowed slightly. "I am glad I finally am able to see this man whom I have heard of so often...and of his praise."

Aragorn returned the smile a little forcibly. He knew they both could feel the other man's agitation just by meeting each other's gaze. It was a mystery to him why the Elf was responding so coldly. What sort of things had he heard? Aragorn had never even met the tall Elf before or heard mention of Cemendur. He only remembered glimpsing him in Rivendell not long ago.

"Please, my lord," said Aragorn quickly, his words directed to Elrond, "do not flatter me with your words. I am only a mere Mortal in the eyes of Elves."

Elrond caught the hint of tension between the two after the cold stare from Cemendur flashed towards Aragorn. He thought it strange as well in a way, yet hid his bewilderment from them both. However, Aragorn sensed it anyway for he knew the Elf-lord well after being raised by him.

"Very well," Elrond said. "I shall leave you then. You two should speak with each other. I think you would have much to talk about since you are alike in some ways. You may not believe so, yet I can see it."

"You also know us better than we know each other. I respect your judgement," Aragorn said with a slight smile to his elder and counsellor.

Cemendur's fingers began to fidget. "Perhaps, but I do have pressing matters I must attend to. Perhaps some other time, Aragorn."

"Perhaps."

"No, I insist!" Elrond said turning his unwavering eyes on Cemendur. "You both are deep in my counsel, and I trust you both just as deeply. If you were close companions all the more would I be blessed." What he did not say was that he would trust Aragorn with his life but not the other. He looked harder at Cemendur. "What kind of pressing matters would you have at this hour?"

"Ai...nothing now that you have taken care of that."

Elrond's smile did not reach his eyes. "Forgive me for being blunt, yet I feel it will go better with our lives if you would both speak with each other. I can sense it in my heart and mind. Something pulls at me."

"If so, we shall, my lord," said Aragorn. "Come Cemendur! We will satisfy our lord's wishes. I will take us to a fair place where we can speak."

Cemendur did not say a word but fell in beside the tall Dúnadan. He was surprised when he realised just how tall Aragorn really was, and he wished he could tell if he was taller than him or not; but in that moment it was imperceptible. Cemendur was hoping it was not so for it made him feel the more inferior. _Why choose him when he has nothing to give? He is a Mortal Man who will fall ill and die by age in only a few years! The Evenstar will regret her choice after it has its full effect on her spirit and body and mind. What would I give to have her heart, the fairest of all that have walked these lands of Middle-earth!_

Aragorn was silent as was Cemendur. They really could think of nothing they wanted to speak of. Especially Cemendur, for Aragorn's name was a taint upon his lips.

"What interests you most, Cemendur? Song, food, rest..."

Cemendur jolted out of his thoughts. "Many things."

Aragorn said nothing in return. He could sense the tension that still lingered like thick smoke between them. It was beginning to choke him.

"How long have you resided Rivendell?" This time it was Cemendur who spoke, breaking the stifling silence. "Besides now that you have just returned; I supposed that from the look of you."

Aragorn sighed deeply but inaudibly. "I was raised here just as Master Elrond told you; from two years of age. There is no other place such as Imladris that will hold the same place in my heart. Even Lothlórien where you hail from."

Cemendur stopped and looked at Aragorn. "How did you know I am from the Golden Wood? I have never before seen you there. I would not think they would even permit you to pass the borders in these days." A smirk almost crossed his face.

Aragorn deflected the blow. "Forgive me, but the few times I have been there you must not have paid any heed to a mortal like myself. May I remind you I was raised by Elves so I am looked upon with different eyes by the Wise of Middle-earth for they know me well. The Lady Galadriel wished to speak with me and know things of Rivendell last I was there, so they let me pass because of her. Yet that is not the only reason, my lord," he said.

Cemendur seethed as Elves rarely do for the weakness of their race is pride, and his had been crushed when he heard of Arwen's love for a mortal. He met the gaze of the Heir of Isildur and heir to be King of Men. They endeavoured for a short moment, yet Cemendur could not hold any longer for he felt a piercing through the centre of his heart.

"Why do you despise me so?" Aragorn asked softening a little. "What have I done to deserve such treatment from an Elf?"

"What have you done? Why, you have ripped the very thing I treasure most away from me! The thing that brought me life and hope for a brief time; a light in the darkness. Then I was shown what was keeping it from me...and I saw you. A Mortal Man, be you some king!"

"What is this 'thing' you speak of? I can think of nothing that I could take from you, Cemendur, a fair Elf of this age. It seems you would have the advantage," said Aragorn.

"You would think, yet that is not so. She has obviously given her heart to you without hesitation or a sliver of doubt," said Cemendur.

Aragorn felt the blow at once and he stared astonished. His eyes fell and his hands went to his sides. Now he knew what had been unknowingly between them. _Arwen? He loves her just as I did when I first laid eyes on her brightness of life. But now it is different since we have grown closer over time for there is nothing that could ever break that love we have. Cemendur has a deep jealousy that I should have recognised at once. What a fool I have been. I should know that there would be those such as this because of us. Who could not admire such beauty and find it strange that such a maiden would choose a Man? Yet I do not only admire her outward beauty. That is the difference between us. _

Cemendur spoke. "Will you not say something?"

Aragorn shook his head slowly.

"Then I shall leave you here. You clearly see what I am meaning at this moment."

"Wait," he said. "There is no need for your hate. It will only harm you and gain you nothing. It is her choice, not mine. But I also ask that you not curse such a bright star."

"I would never harm or curse her in any way. I could never bring myself to do it," said the Elf. "Yet there are others I may for the destruction he brought upon me." Cemendur turned and walked away leaving the tall Man standing in the starlight that shimmered across his hair. He appeared an Elf-lord out of the past, mighty and noble, if only Cemendur would have looked back and seen what those who were wise saw when they looked upon the Heir of Isildur.

_It was well that Elrond had us speak with each other. Now I know the reason for his loathing of me. But...is it any better? How can I live with the knowledge of another man, an Elf of course, who has also fallen in love with the most beautiful maiden yet to live? _thought Aragorn sadly.

Before Cemendur was completely out of sight around the corner, a tall beautiful Elf-maiden stepped out into the hall between Cemendur and Aragorn. "Aragorn," she breathed, smiling slightly. Cemendur stopped so suddenly his feet slid on the smooth stone beneath his feet. His eyes widened, surprising for an Elf to show surprise as he did then. Aragorn stepped forward noiselessly almost reaching out a hand to catch the Elf's arm. Cemendur also stepped forward after turning around sharply.

Arwen Undómiel glanced at Aragorn and Cemendur, both of them the same distance away from her. Cemendur held a pained and desperate look on his now broken face. Aragorn watched Arwen with love showing in his face, his eyes caressing her cheek.

Arwen sighed. "Well..." she began, "you two have finally met, I see." There was a deep and long silence before she finally gave up beginning a conversation.

"Yes, we have," Cemendur said with his tall form leaning forwards slightly in anticipation as if he thought she would walk right into his arms. Aragorn fumed inside at the audacity of the Elf to think such things about Arwen. She was not... His thoughts were cut off abruptly when Arwen forced a smile for Cemendur but walked towards Aragorn quite briskly it seemed. Her dark green skirts swirled about her white, unshod feet stepping ever so lightly on the floor. A real smile now adorned her beautiful features. When Aragorn had time to look away from that shining face, he had to strain to keep himself from grimacing. Cemendur looked as though he had been shot with an arrow through his chest or been stabbed in the stomach.

* * *

_1. What is it?_

_2. My lord, I bear an urging message from the Edain. _


	15. Old Friend and New Enemy

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just to tell everyone, Cemendur is not a bad Elf; he just allowed his pride as an immortal to overwhelm him (and his love for Arwen). He is just in a rather wretched mood now :). Things are beginning to shift in the story!! The Quest is beginning, and the hobbits are coming!! Gollum makes an appearance in this ch. and someone else you Elf-lovers will enjoy. Legolas Greenleaf is also in this ch. and not for the last time. On another note, I wrote a poem called Every Morning that could be inserted in this story, so if you want you can go read it and review. It would be much appreciated :). It is Arwen's thoughts when Aragorn passes from the circles of the world at last and is veerrry sad. Enjoy ch. 15!!

Cemendur strove to keep from doubling up or falling to the ground on his knees. The sight of Arwen rushing to Aragorn when trapped between the two men made him feel nauseous. Everything swam before his eyes as he fell back a few paces trying to wrench away his gaze. If he did not look away soon something was bound to go terribly wrong inside. He tried taking a deep breath before continuing. Arwen had wrapped her arm around Aragorn's and her hand was enclosed by his, something bold to do for signs of affection were not often done before others among the Elves and higher Men. The name crossed his mind with a grimace as deep dislike suddenly welled up like a spring inside his heart, a feeling he had never had before now.

Arwen entangled his mind and sent everything racing nervously. She had a face so beautiful, an Orc would believe it. _No, a Dwarf! She does not need to love a mere Man only because her forebear Lúthien Tinúviel had. Is what they say really true? Does she resemble Tinúviel that closely? Her mind has been deceived into thinking she must follow in the footsteps of the Nightingale. How I wish I could tear her from it to save her from that...that Man! She will die a mortal death because of him! How dare he!_

Arwen did not look at him again. Her entire focus remained on Aragorn, that filth of a man. Cemendur raged inside fighting for sanity. _I must do what I must._

* * *

Arwen held Aragorn's strong arm close as she looked up—well, more like slanted; she was not far shorter than he—into his stormy grey eyes. Something had caused that storm, yet she did not know what. Suddenly a name slid across her mind. Cemendur. She tried her hardest not to look in his direction. All of this had happened in only a few brief moments, but it seemed an eternity before the Evenstar finally had Aragorn walking away, Cemendur left behind. She let out a long breath she had held for that time.

That last choice she had made—coming to Aragorn, her beloved—floated in her mind like an ominous, shadowy cloud. It was as if Cemendur represented immortal Elven-life while Aragorn symbolized the mortality of Men. She had made her choice far earlier; but it was not until now that it began to sink in like a stone weight to the bottom of a sparkling stream.

"Arwen," Aragorn's voice broke through her thoughts, "do you understand what you did?" His voice was as soothing as ever to her mind and heart, like the wind playing upon the grasses during the spring.

She met his gaze once more. "I do, if what you mean is Cemendur. He is deeply troubled in his heart. Something is very wrong." A slight frown creased her forehead.

Aragorn smoothed her brow with a softly stroking hand. A smile lit his face like so many times before. She thought he enjoyed touching her beautifully white skin. "Frowning does not suit you, my love." He laughed when she grinned. His tone grew more serious. "Cemendur actually frightened me. I thought he might try to wrap his hands about my throat if I was not careful the way he looked at me. I have never seen an Elf so distressed and angered. Elrond will have to know of this before Cemendur does something...irrational."

Arwen nodded, but then she wondered if her father would listen. "An Elf has not behaved in such a way for many long years, I would suppose, so he might not believe it of Cemendur after spending time with him in his confidence. Have you ever had that man dig his heels in with you before?"

Aragorn laughed. "Yes. Yes, I have. I would rather not speak of it."

Arwen smiled and shook her head. Now they were entering a beautiful courtyard where two or three trees grew as high as the structures, looming over the two gleaming figures arm-in-arm. Lush vegetation swelled around them all bright and colourful. Most everything was green, gold, silver, or rich blue or brown; yet there were some things that were vivid red like blood or so violet it was almost dark blue, if only a few. Ivy crawled up the walls, clinging and draping gracefully on the chalky stone. The place was alive with emerald green glimmering in the moonlight.

"Cemendur worries me," said Aragorn with a hint of anxiety in his voice. Arwen was surprised. Nothing could worry her Estel. Nothing. "He is...unexplainable really. There is no other way to describe it. At least when he is near you or me. When he was with Elrond I saw nothing to fret over. Now I am not so sure."

"Estel, I would not torment yourself over this," she said looking up at him. "Elrond would have his hide in an instant if he knew what was happening behind his back. Now that I think of it, that might be a pleasant idea letting Elrond know."

"They said you were in Lothlórien," said Aragorn.

"I was for a time, yet Elrond sent for me for the passes and roads are becoming dangerous to travel even for Elves. I returned only a day ago."

"Dúnadan?"

Arwen and Aragorn both turned their heads to look in the direction of that chiming, clear voice. Aragorn's smile reappeared so quickly it might never have left his face. "Legolas!" he cried meeting Arwen's gaze briefly as if asking permission to leave her for the moment. He walked briskly to meet a slim, tall Elf wearing brown and green garments of the forest. From Mirkwood. The named Legolas had hair commonly seen on an Elf; it was pale gold, like sunlight shining through fresh honey. He was very fair like Cemendur and just as tall but barely to Aragorn's height. He and Aragorn exchanged bows.

Arwen stepped forward when Legolas finally caught sight of her...or perhaps paid attention. She felt the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of her full mouth when Legolas was staring though attempting to hide his wonder. Aragorn appeared amused at his friend's expression.

"Legolas, I introduce to you Arwen Undómiel, Evenstar of her people and of the Elves, daughter of Elrond who has newly returned to Rivendell," he said.

Arwen could not help but finally smile when Legolas bowed over her hand with a hand on his chest. His intense blue eyes, blue as the water in Valinor, studied her in one glance. He smiled as much as he could staring and released her pale, long-fingered hand. Aragorn was watching with a bemused smile as his friend gazed in wonder upon his beloved.

1. "Elyë haryavelicë meldor, meldanya," she said softly. Aragorn turned his head to look upon her when he heard her gentle voice. Fondness glistened in his grey eyes. They looked somewhat silver in the starlight.

Legolas's face became slightly abashed when he heard Arwen name Aragorn her beloved. He bowed saying in a muffled voice, "I shall leave you two to your business while I attend to my duty. My father sent me here to deliver a message to Master Elrond and now would be well for he has most likely heard of my coming some time ago."

Aragorn reached out a hand to his friend. "Nay, Legolas; stay with us for a while. You will not regret it." He smiled.

Legolas's head tilted slightly as he scrutinized the Elf and Man with those blazing blue eyes. Arwen had rarely seen such a brilliant colour except in Lothlórien where the Elves' eyes were always bright as polished gems. They contrasted sharply with his pale honey-coloured hair glimmering in the light of golden lamps lit to keep away the darkness. If Aragorn had not been, Legolas would have stolen her heart with that strong and tempered gaze. His slim form seemed poised for whatever might occur like a wild but graceful animal. Much more graceful.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Arwen—who walked between the two men—began striding through the courtyard and out into the less tame land where the trees grew tall and thick; yet they were beautiful all the same just as all of Rivendell had been for the two Ages it had existed in Middle-earth. Everything was beautiful. Some was well-nigh as lovely as in Eldamar itself. Lothlórien and Rivendell merged into one kingdom would be a glimpse of Valinor in Middle-earth, yet they were two utterly unique places when separate as they were now.

"How fare the Elves in Mirkwood?" asked Arwen of Legolas.

"Many hearts darken with this Age," he said sadly. "The numbers journeying to the Grey Havens has increased twofold in the past year for the Elves cannot stem the tide of darkness falling upon us all. We all appeal to the Valar to aid us in this terrible plight or that we would see the end of such despair in Middle-earth."

Aragorn nodded sadly. "As do we all who remember the earth years before the Dark Lord began to take shape. It must be worse for those of immortal kind."

"Indeed it can be," said Legolas. "I have lived long, yet these are not the darkest days I have seen in my many years." His eyes were shrouded by a sudden dimness. "If the Shadow's arm grows any longer...they shall be just as terrible as those in the Second Age long ago."

Arwen looked up into the dark heavens where scores of shining stars sparkled without thought of the gloom about them. "At least there are some who do not know of the troubles of the world, or allow it to concern them in their far lands. I have heard the Halflings are well-kept in the Shire and do not even realise what is happening in all the other lands and kingdoms."

"For which I am ever thankful," murmured Aragorn.

"I have never seen these strange folk," said Legolas, "yet I have heard of their ways and manners. They sound an odd people."

Aragorn smiled. "They work miracles for the heart. Seeing their unquenchable cheer lightens the spirit. I would hope to be among them one day when the Shadow is vanquished so that I might enjoy it without grievance."

"Is there not one of the Halflings here in Imladris?" asked Arwen.

Aragorn paused for a moment. "I believe so. Bilbo Baggins is his name and is a dear friend of Gandalf the Grey and Lord Elrond. He even speaks Sindarin when he is wont or is greeted by the Elves. He has journeyed here from the Shire some years ago and is abiding here until his end perhaps."

"I should meet with him then," said Legolas with a radiant smile.

The three fair folk spent another hour speaking with one another and walking beneath the brilliant stars. The night was still and cool without a breath of wind moving through the trees or stirring the grass. Silver light was cast upon them creating a vision of splendour and light. They all were close companions in years after.

* * *

Later Aragorn left Rivendell to take up the trail of Gollum once more even though it seemed so hopeless. Aragorn refused to give up and admit defeat. Gandalf also was with Aragorn tracking their prey for the next eight years of their lives. In a later time, Gandalf left Aragorn to it alone to take care of his own business thinking they would never find Gollum ever again.

* * *

Aragorn lifted his feet out of the muck. He grimaced at the rank smell of the Dead Marshes and avoided looking into the water. Dead faces stared up at him from ages long ago, a bloody battle won and lost. He searched the horizon with his keen eyes hoping to leave soon. The search was becoming rather despairing until, finally, a few traces of life brought a surge of hope rushing through him. It was the only thing keeping him on his feet in the wretched swamp.

"He will pay for this," he muttered moving carefully and swiftly through the squelching earth trying to suck him in. The sun had only just set behind him as he made his way further East where he least likely would ever have gone.

Gollum was in deeper trouble than he knew. The creature was moving erratically across the marsh and Aragorn had to watch for signs of him very carefully with the dying light. This was the time of night Gollum would be most active when the sun and moon both were not in the dark sky.

His foot stumbled in a rut and he cursed the creature as he caught himself before falling face first in the odd-coloured water. A flitting light came in front of him making him blink. The lights of the Dead Marshes were the most dangerous beings there, so he looked away quickly moving his feet the other way just as hastily.

One shining star stood out in the few others that scattered across the heavens. It pulsed with a pure light above the earth in the West guiding those who sailed into the Undying Lands. Its light reached to his very heart. It was the Star of Eärendil, the Great Mariner of the skies whose descendant held Aragorn's heart in her own. A vision of her stunning form sitting by a river reading a worn book moved across his eyes for an instant. He sighed deeply for the sight of her.

Suddenly, a fresh track sprang up in front of Aragorn and he halted in his step abruptly staring at it. It was very fresh. He crouched lower to the ground in case Gollum was closer than he thought. He moved forward without a sound, this time ignoring the fetid smell and squashy marsh ground. Aragorn halted once more. Gollum was a hundred yards ahead of him staring hard into a pool of marshy water, no doubt at his reflection. Aragorn crept forward ever cautiously for he knew the abilities of the small, slimy creature. His large eyes glowed palely in the soft light of the stars and his sickly-coloured skin glistened wetly. When he was closer he began to hear it muttering to itself strange things along with a many gollum in its throat.

"Its preciousssss. We must gets it back," Gollum hissed. "They stole it from us, they did. Gollum. Our preciousssss!" Gollum glared up at the heavens. "She'll see us, she will. Nasssty, burning light!" he whined in a piteous voice.

Aragorn grimaced slightly at hearing his words as he came near at hand to Gollum. The pool of water rippled violently when Gollum's bony hand splashed into it convulsively as he whimpered and whined to himself. "We wantsss it back, precious. We wantssss it! He won't get it from usss."

Gollum's voice changed. "But he'll kill us, kill usss!"

Aragorn was now close enough to lay a hand on the creature, close enough to capture him. His heart raced with adrenaline and anticipation. The time had finally come when Gollum would be detained for information about his past. In one fluid, faster-than-sight movement Aragorn was upon Gollum/Sméagol.

"Nooo!" it wailed. "He mustn't get it!"

Aragorn struggled to hold on to the slippery thing and it took all he had. Gollum was much stronger than he might have looked being so bony and small, yet Aragorn had the strength of Men...so the only issue was holding on.

"It hurtses us, precious," Gollum sobbed loudly. Aragorn cried out in pain when he sunk his sharp teeth into Aragorn's hand that held on to an arm, making him grip even harder. He pushed Gollum to the ground forcefully to stifle the grappling between them. All of this lasted for what seemed ages...but was only seconds. At last Aragorn had the creature under control, and he slipped a rope around his neck to lead him on. In that time he had gained a few bruises and cuts and been bitten twice by those cutting jaws that clamped on as hard as death.

"Stay still and obey unless you wish to meet your end at last, foul beast," Aragorn muttered angrily at the whimpering form huddled on the wet ground. Gollum did not answer so Aragorn tugged on the slim yet strong rope to move him forward.

They had to make their way at once to the realm of the Elves in Mirkwood. He had spoken to Legolas—Prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil—when the Elf was in Rivendell years earlier about Gollum/Sméagol and what they were to do with him when captured. Legolas told him to bring the captive to the halls of Mirkwood once he was attained because of the Elves' vigilance.

The unlikely pair made their way through the Dead Marshes with care, one pulling the other mercilessly feeling the pain of teeth in his hands; Gollum deserved no mercy for the things he had done. At one point when they were reaching the end of the Marshes Gollum decided, unwisely, to attempt escape. Aragorn felt a sharp tug on the rope as Gollum wrenched it with his hands for the creature was trying to take it off his neck. He was hissing and muttering curses as he did. Aragorn jerked it just hard enough to lift Gollum off his feet and head face first into the water. He squealed before he came up sputtering and thrashing.

"I told you to obey and hold still! You must not struggle for your own good," Aragorn said loud enough to be heard by Gollum only.

"We hatess him. We hatesss them both!" Gollum yelled with his hands trembling over the rope. If anything ever irritated Aragorn, it was Gollum. Nothing else had ever gotten under his skin like him in such a brief time. He took a sharp intake of breath and kept himself from coughing because the stench of the Dead Marshes filled his nostrils before he could stop it. There was a new smell now just as terrible. He glanced over his shoulder at Gollum who was continuing in his thorny whining. _This is going to be a very long road_.

* * *

_1. You possess great friends, my beloved._


	16. Growing Shadow

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks once again all who have reviewed my story. ArwenElfstone: I am glad you like the story, and I am also glad it has such a Tolkienlike spirit to it as well. I have tried to do so :). Natulcien (if you get to this ch.): thank you soooo much!! When I read your review it totally made my day :)! Enjoy the rest of the story too. And the rest of you enjoy ch. 16!! The War of the Ring is fast approaching :)....

Travelling over the rocky terrain of the Emyn Muil, across the barren Brown Lands and around the southern region of the great forest of Mirkwood, the largest in Middle-earth, took many weeks yet finally Aragorn and his captive entered the dark eaves of that forest before they came near Esgaroth, a city of men by the Long Lake. Aragorn was taking no chances of bringing Gollum near Men or others.

The shadows engulfed them as Aragorn tugged Gollum behind him. Mirkwood could be a dangerous place and Gollum had been a part of that danger once before spreading rumours of a child-killing shadow. Another reason not to enter Esgaroth or its borders. They walked on with Gollum whimpering or muttering curses at Aragorn for he had come to hate the Heir of Isildur with a passion. He did not take capturing lightly.

Aragorn wondered if he had ever been caught or seized before. _Most likely since he was in Mordor before I caught him. The scheming beast was apparently conversing with the Dark One the way he whines about his poor hands and the darkness. It will be a great joy to be rid of him at last._

The day passed, although the sun did not shine through the thick branches. Aragorn felt weariness coming upon him after journeying so long with the slimy, bony creature Gollum.

"Yessss. We likeses it. We remembers this place, we does preciousss. Gollum, gollum." Gollum's head swivelled around taking in the sight of the forest. "Ah! Must be careful, precious, don't want to hurtsss ourselves." Gollum had tripped over an immense root sprouting out of the ground. "It burns us! It burnss!" His fingers again reached for the rope around his neck but shied back before touching it.

Aragorn glared at him. Gollum cowered and crawled on hands and feet like he had for the past weeks. His strange, unpleasant stench had still not become typical after so long. The weariness struck him again; this time harder. He stumbled on his feet where it was smooth and almost fell to his knees. He halted the two-people company as he collapsed onto a root sticking up like a seat. Gollum hissed angrily.

"Where were you before I caught you?" Aragorn asked firmly. He had tried asking questions of him and even attempted a form of kindness all to no avail. Gollum only made a noise in his throat and glared right back with a gleam in his large, pale eyes. Aragorn met that gaze fiercely making Gollum cringe and step back. "You will soon wish you had answered my questions."

They started again deeper into the wood whose air was thick and stale with a touch of green. Mighty boughs bent to reach out to passer-by brushing against them with hanging leaves green as emeralds. The ground was soft but many furrows, mounds, and uneven ground covered the forest floor thick with underbrush and bracken. Aragorn's booted feet sank into it, brown earth clinging. The trees did not thin for some time until he could sense the threat of the shadows lessen. A grim smile split his mouth. His keen ears picked up a disturbance in the still silence, however, not really sound. He shifted his gaze into the trees to find a glimmer pass by. He stopped.

"Aragorn son of Arathorn, you are known to us," rang a voice out of the many shadows of the trees, "and are welcome in the elven realm of Mirkwood." A tall figure stepped out in front of Aragorn and his captive holding a bow strung with an arrow shaft coloured with green and brown, the colours of the forest. The Elf bowed slightly all the while watching Gollum with his rope. "What is this creature you bring?" His bright blue eyes flitted like a bird from Gollum to Aragorn standing taller than he.

Aragorn returned the greeting and bow. "His name might have slipped into a conversation of yours, kind Elf." He lowered his voice. "He once was called Sméagol but now is named Gollum."

The Elf shifted on his feet in soft boots laced right below the knee. His dark bronze hair shimmered even in the gloom when he nodded his head. "Yes. I have heard the name. Gollum at least." The object of their discussion hissed through his teeth when he looked at the Elf. "Legolas, the son of Thranduil, was the one who brought word long ago of this one. He is quite wretched if what is said of him is true."

Aragorn nodded and fingered the rope in his hand glad to be leaving Gollum with someone else who could handle him.

The Elf smiled. "You seem eager to be here. Is this because of him leaving you? I believe Legolas mentioned something of keeping that creature here in our dungeons. He will be safe to keep there."

Aragorn nodded again saying, "Yes, that is true. I thank you greatly for taking him off my hands."

"You will come with me then?"

"Not this time, my friend. Give this message to Legolas: thank you for all your assistance and aid in this situation. I shall always be in the debt of you and your kin."

The Elf nodded in acceptance as Aragorn carefully handed him the rope attached to Gollum who watched with wary eyes. He muttered some more. The Elf raised an eyebrow when he saw this and shook his head. "Now I understand your distress with this...thing. How long did you have him?"

"Many long weeks. I found him in the Dead Marshes and journeyed here straight away," said Aragorn.

"The Dead Marshes? How did you manage for all that time with him? I commend you for bearing such a burden, yet if you must go then be on your way, Eldandil. May the blessings of the Elves go with you."

"And also with you," Aragorn said bowing low. "You have done me much service." Gollum was finally taken off his hands. Aragorn felt a burden lift from his shoulders. He watched the tall Elf disappear into the trees with Gollum trailing behind squealing and protesting. "At last," he murmured. He began walking into the forest to make his way back to the North draped in shadow but his eyes were ever full of light.

* * *

It was now around a year since Gollum had been taken by Aragorn and given into Thranduil's care in Mirkwood. Aragorn had taken up his roll as Chieftain of the Dúnedain once more in the North of Middle-earth, guiding them in protecting those who lived there. The lands were becoming more dangerous as the Dark One's power lengthened exceedingly.

"Lord Aragorn!" cried a voice from the trees. Aragorn waited for the young Ranger Tarcil to reach him in the shadows. His higher voice was not difficult to recognise. "My lord, you must hear the word that has come!"

Aragorn stepped forward into the small clearing golden with morning sun. The pure light glistened on the grass wet with dew. He saw the Ranger running towards him taking long strides.

"Lord Aragorn," he panted when he also walked into the clearing. "There is word from our people in the Shire."

"What word?" asked Aragorn.

Tarcil answered in a grim tone. "It is grieving news. Rangers guarding the Shire and its inhabitants have been...chased and cut down. They said a darkness...a darkness on black horses swept through their guard like the cutting wind of winter. Only few escaped and one returned to give us this news."

Aragorn rubbed a hand across his brow brushing back his dark hair. His eyes glistened in the morning light. "Where is the man?"

Tarcil shook his head sadly. "He is being tended by Halbarad. I do not think he will live."

He did not wait before making his way back to the camp where they were to stay for a night or two. A small fire burned in the middle but little else was there. Three horses tied to the trees stood nibbling the grass to green stubs with the few small packs of the Rangers laid on the ground beside them. There were three in their camp: Aragorn, Halbarad, and Tarcil the youngest Ranger out of the whole of Dúnedain. Halbarad was a dear friend of Aragorn's and was the highest in the Dúnedain besides himself.

Aragorn's eyes immediately went to Halbarad when he entered the second clearing, this one larger. He was cradling the head of a younger man, though older than Tarcil, with a pained expression on his face.

Halbarad looked up when Aragorn and Tarcil came near. "Aragorn, we need your healing badly," he said quietly. "Aravel is his name, and he came from guarding the Halflings in the Shire. Something happened you will wish to hear of in full." Tarcil nodded.

"Yes, but first I must aid this young man."

Halbarad's eyes darkened. "He has been wounded more fatally than what any ordinary blade can do, my lord. There were more than riders in black in this attack. In his fever he muttered about darkness and shadow. He is almost gone."

Aragorn knelt beside the two on the ground and took a few old leaves from the small pouch at his belt. "Bring me some water." Tarcil rushed to obey his word and soon held out a bowl of tepid water to him clear as the sky. "Thank you." The leaves permeated a refreshing scent and rejuvenating life once Aragorn had crushed them into the water, mixing it with his finger. Tarcil's chest rose with a deep breath of the strange air that had come into the clearing as did Halbarad.

"Eru save him," Halbarad murmured sorrowfully watching Aravel's face; it was pale as the death that was nearing him. Tarcil lowered his head while Aragorn applied the mixture of the leaves, called athelas, and water onto what seemed a minor wound in the man's lower arm. Aravel groaned and jerked his head.

"He is the only one who can," Aragorn whispered to himself. He brought his hands to Aravel's head and closed his eyes, delving inside of him. 1. "Attul na cálë, Aravel." At length Aragorn opened his eyes and sat back on his heels gently setting Aravel's head on the blanket beneath him from his fever. "That is all I am able to do. Now we shall wait and see how our young friend fares." A thin smile reached his lips. "Aravel may live much longer, I think, than we believed."

Tarcil slowly released a breath he had been holding and collapsed on the ground, crossing his legs one over the other. "That is indeed a good thing," he said. "Aravel is a good, strong man."

Halbarad nodded in agreement and moved closer to the still form. "Are you sure he will live? He is still too pale."

"He is returning to us, my friends. All he needs is rest for the day to recover fully. He lasted long for having a wound given him by one of the Nazgûl. When he wakes I shall commend him. There are few who would have lived after such pain and darkness. Aravel has Eru to thank once he regains his past strength," said Aragorn.

"And you, my lord," Halbarad said watching his captain with a discerning eye. "You were ever the one to brush off acknowledgement when you had done something to deserve it...or not. For that I respect you."

"My thanks to you," Aragorn said with a nod. "Now we can only wait and hear the tale this man will tell."

Night shrouded the sun hours later while the three Rangers waited and watched with vigilance, not only with Aravel. The woods still held lurking dangers when least expected even with the Dúnedain's keeping of the Northern lands. Aravel sat up straight when he awakened from the darkness and looked around with wary eyes. He had been shaken badly at the borders of the Shire.

Aragorn rushed to him. "Aravel, be careful how you carry yourself for you are not fully healed. Rest should be first on your mind." Aragorn knelt beside him in the dimness. Aravel pulled trembling hands from beneath the warm blankets that had covered him. Aragorn put gentle hands on the man's shoulders to push him back down so he could continue to rest.

"No!" Aravel hissed. "I cannot rest now, my lord. Is it truly you?"

Aragorn nodded and allowed him to rise, pulling his hands away as he watched the man's appearance carefully. "Why is it you are not able to sleep?"

"There is too much in my mind to keep me awake till the ends of time. Too much shadow and darkness. There was so much chaos and fear that night I could not recall much of what happened in the turmoil. I ran until my feet became blistered and not till then did I realise where I was going. My feet had lead me in the direction of where I had heard before that you were. It was also the time my arm began to throb like nothing I have ever felt." His hand brushed against the bound wound. "What was it in the darkness of night? Please let me know, Lord Aragorn. I cannot live with visions without knowing what it was."

"You have heard of the Enemy's minions, higher than the rest, called Ringwraiths?"

Aravel's eyes, their grey-blue depths not ashamed to show such great fear, darkened. "They were those dark figures?"

Aragorn nodded slowly, hoping the new information would not trouble him when he was beginning to heal. He did not say anything more for fear of this. Aravel was left to ponder his words while he lay there in the shadows of night.

"Do you think it was right to tell him?" Halbarad asked when he fell in beside his captain out of earshot. "Perhaps...perhaps not. He would have been more distressed without knowing. Would you not?"

Halbarad agreed if reluctantly. "It still does not seem right to leave him with the knowledge of the Nine let loose upon Middle-earth and not only that but they are in the Shire after fighting through our guard which has never faltered before. His dreams will be plagued for more than one night, I fear."

"Yes, yet that is far better than letting his mind wander farther than it should. The mind can imagine things that never should be and are worse than what is. Especially with someone as bright as he," said Aragorn glancing back to where Aravel lay trying to rest himself after his ordeal. "We are going to have to do something about the Enemy's servants in the Shire. They are searching for what the Dark One wants more than anything now." Aragorn did not mention he knew what it was. They were going to have to act soon for Sauron could not get a hold of the One Ring, or the world would come to darkness and his terrible rule dominate all that was once beautiful and pure. Even with all his composure and smooth face, a shudder ran down his spine at the horrid thought.

"My lord, is everything well?" Halbarad asked quietly when he saw Aragorn's shiver. Aragorn rarely let his anxiety or fear show. "All is as well as can be for the time being, my friend. Dark times have reached us at last though over the years things have become tainted. The fate of Middle-earth is resting on the end of this Age. I feared this day would come," Aragorn said with dread.

Halbarad shook his head. "It is still difficult to listen to your words, Strider," he said, "when they seem like someone else's from ages past. It is your voice but...you seem different when you say things of fate and such. A new wind blows in from the West bringing change."

"We will see," Aragorn said softly turning his head toward the West where the sun had set not long ago, the mountains snuffing the shining light. "We will see. I must go to Bree."

* * *

_1. Come again to the light, Aravel._


	17. Bree

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hmm...I have a feeling this is going to be a veerrry long story :D. Anyway, you hobbit lovers out there will be happy to know that they have arrived, and the War of the Ring is happening at last!! lindahoyland: crazy English language :). Thanks for the correction (much appreciated) because I sort of edited ch. 16 quickly. I am glad you enjoyed it too. Natulcien: wow!! I am so happy you like my story so much :)!! It makes me feel really good. I hope your friends and all do read it (and review :)). I never expected to get such wonderful feedback from you all. Thank you sooo much!! Enjoy ch. 17!! (And remember to review!!)

Arwen rushed to find her father in the long corridors of Rivendell for urgent words had reached her ears. She found him at last and grasped his arm. "Father, I have heard the news," she said meeting his gaze.

He nodded. "I had thought so. I never thought to see such strange events in my time...or unpredictable. Who would have known this was to come?" Tidings had come by word of Gandalf the Grey: the One Ring had been found and was being swiftly brought to Imladris in the safety of the Elves' keeping in the hands of a Halfling from the Shire in the far North. Gandalf had not been able to meet them, yet had said Aragorn had joined them in Bree when all seemed to be collapsing. Arwen had become overjoyed at the word from the wizard.

"It is indeed odd, yet a good omen nonetheless. If only they arrive safely and unhindered."

"That is my strongest desire," said Elrond with a new light shining in his eyes. "They should arrive in two or three weeks at the most if all goes well."

A thrill of anticipation blazed inside her as she smiled at Elrond's back, receding into the shade of the dwellings. She drifted away into the forested area where her heart ever remained and returned many times in years later if not in body.

_I hope and pray they arrive here soon, or I..._

Her ears caught the hint of soft-soled boots stepping—no, gliding—across the soft, green earth close by. She turned to the side, her keen elven sight reaching out through the wooded land to rest on a tall, slim figure walking her way. A smile crept onto her beautiful face making it all the more brilliant. The Elf's dark hair glimmered in the sunlight brushing against his dark grey and black garments down his back. When he was closer Arwen greeted him.

"Aiya Elrohir! What brings you here?"

He shrugged saying, "I am not quite sure really. I needed to take a stroll to clear my mind, and I saw you also out here alone so...do you mind having company?"

"No," she smiled. "Your company is ever pleasant, brother. Come walk with me then."

He fell in beside her as they began striding across the forest floor with elvish grace and ease, no footfalls heard in the stillness of the wood. Giant tree roots reached out of the ground to curl and dance around each other or the earth beneath the branches up above who reached towards the heavens in praise. The roots covered with lustrous moss, the branches coated in brilliant green leaves; but over the leaves grew blossoms like white stars in the eaves. They spread open to their fullest so as to soak in the soft sunlight gleaming through the cover of leaves. The grove was alive with vibrant life.

"Elrohir, have you heard..."

"...of the certain small company supposed to arrive here in the following month or so?" he finished.

Arwen laughed, the sound like chiming bells mixed with splashing water. "Never mind my question then. We are not to speak of it too openly even here in the safety of Imladris, yet Elrond has me quite curious after mentioning it. It seems Eru is weaving his design and very intricately by the looks of it so far. Many different threads are becoming entwined as the Third Age grows old and Sauron's power swells like a terrible sting to Middle-earth. Sauron may have seemed defeated, yet not so. The sting is spreading poison throughout the blood—which is all the Free Peoples of this land—worsening, and driving us towards the eruption. This eruption will be great indeed, but who can say what the outcome is: for good or evil?"

"I do not know, my sister," said Elrohir gazing straight ahead with his far- seeing grey eyes, "however, I do not think Eru and the Valar will let all light be vanquished in the end no matter what happens. We are loved too much though it may not seem like it now and then; especially in times as these where darkness is ever dominant in the lands where any who wished would roam freely and safely. I fear for Middle-earth, Arwen." Elrohir's voice took on an edge of sharp sadness.

"As do I, my brother. So much is happening! Look at what times we do live in! It is strange if one ponders it long. We may see things never witnessed in the history of Endorenna or Valinor," said Arwen.

Elrohir's eyes brightened and he grinned widely. "You make it seem thrilling while others make it appear to be the end of all that is good here in this despairing land with death to all."

"I try," she said quietly looking up at the white blossoms above. Some drifted slowly to the ground covering the earthy soil and lush grass beneath the two Elves' feet. Arwen caught one in her hands with a soft smile. "Is it not beautiful?" She held it up in the light and felt at peace about all that was revolving around Imladris.

Elrohir plucked it out of her grasp with care. He then placed it in her hair. "There. That will have to do. Strange...it looks even more beautiful now than before."

"Thank you Elrohir. You are too kind." She brought a hand to his cheek. "I am honoured for you to be my brother. At times I feel you and Elladan are the only ones I can trust to reveal my heart to here in Rivendell."

Elrohir's eyes clouded briefly at her words and he said, "Our father is noble enough to be in your confidence. There are none like to him living."

"Sometimes he cannot be because of who he is. At those times it is usually when we dissent over...a certain disagreement of ours." She bit her lip.

"Ai. You speak of your love of Aragorn?" asked Elrohir.

"Yes," Arwen answered lowering her eyes, "that is precisely what I speak of. We are not on good terms when it comes to it. I attempt to steer the discussion down another road, yet Elrond has need to say certain things. I have forgiven him for this since I understand why he acts the way he does." Arwen saw him having difficulty holding back a smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. He cleared his throat and looked to the side to avoid her piercing gaze. "Where is Elladan?" she asked suddenly thinking of how often they were in each other's company. "I have not seen him."

"He is...well...I am not sure. For once he has evaded me for a day. Elladan does so when he is thinking hard or...despairing." Elrohir's head lowered to his chest as they continued walking.

Arwen grasped his arm. "Of what would he despair?"

"You know we both changed when mother passed into the West long years ago. She was so dear to us and she had to leave. That is one reason Elladan and I have chosen to take that road after her when the last ship comes. When she departed Elladan and I let our emotions run loose for a time. The Orcs learned to fear the sons of Elrond like no others through the passing years. We still take leave of the valley of Imladris to wander the Wild with Rangers of the North. It is in those times I feel most alive," Elrohir said with shining eyes. His back straightened further and his step was easy. "He is pondering things this day."

Arwen nodded her head letting a dark strand of hair fall from behind her ear. She tilted her head to look over at her kin when he frowned briefly after his words left the air. Now and then a bird with brightly beautiful feathers fluttered from branch to branch singing its song to those who would listen.

"It is strange to know that Sauron used to be one of the Maia. They still mourn over the loss of his skill in Aman." Arwen had begun to wonder of the Dark Lord and why he would forsake the light to embrace darkness.

"As do the Elves. He was great once," said Elrohir. "So many things have changed...yet never the darkness."

"Nor does the light, Elrohir," Arwen said in a near whisper. "For now we must look to the light and all that is good and courageous."

* * *

Aragorn moved through the slowly darkening shadows, with Elf-like grace and without sound, alone. He had given charge of Aravel to Halbarad and Tarcil once he set out for Bree, the village of Men and Halflings. Now he was almost there, on the borders, after passing near the Barrow-downs. The Barrow-downs never disturbed him for he was of Númenórean blood who erected those places long ago and the Barrow-wights feared him.

The sound of lowered voices reached his keen ears, so he crept forward to draw closer. Now the words were clearer and he smiled grimly.

"It may be all we could wish," said a voice high for a man, "but it is outside the Shire all the same. Don't make yourselves too much at home! Please remember—all of you—that the name of Baggins must NOT be mentioned. I am Mr. Underhill, if any name must be given."

Old Tom Bombadil had left the four hobbits to themselves when they came to the end of his country, and they were discussing their arrival into the village of Bree. Aragorn stood quite near; although they did not hear or see him being so close. His eyes glinted in the softening sunlight that was almost gone behind the horizon. He had found his quarry before he expected.  
  
The one he presumed was Frodo Baggins was he who had just spoken and given warning to the three other hobbits. He was short, as hobbits are, with dark curling hair and bright eyes. His hairy feet were as large as most Men's at full length as was the same with the others. Periannath, Halflings. They were only a legend among some in distant lands, yet in the North Men and Elves knew better.

The four hobbits mounted their ponies and rode off in a silent manner as they went over and up hills in the road. Aragorn followed quietly and unknowingly to their side beneath the cover of the sparse trees. He was watching them as they went until Bree-hill rose in the distance. At its western base sparkled warm lights of the large village of Bree under the hill's protection. Dark had come during the four miles they trekked. Aragorn was, for once, thankful for the shadows hiding him from sight better than earlier.

They approached the West-gate of Bree that was shut tight. The gatekeeper sat inside the doorway of his small lodging by the roadway. When he saw the hobbits standing there waiting he jumped to his feet awkwardly, grabbed a lit lantern, and looked down at them over the gate. His face did not mask his amazement.

Aragorn heard him say in a gruff voice, "What do you want, and where do you come from?"

"We are making for the inn here," answered Frodo. "We are journeying east and cannot go further tonight."

"Hobbits! Four hobbits! And what's more, out of the Shire by their talk," said the gatekeeper, softly as if speaking to himself. He stared at them darkly for a moment, and then slowly opened the gate and let them ride through. "We don't often see Shire-folk riding on the Road at night," he went on, as they halted a moment by his door. "You'll pardon my wondering what business takes you away east of Bree! What may your names be, might I ask?"

"Our names and our business are our own, and this does not seem a good place to discuss them," said Frodo who apparently did not like the look of the gatekeeper or his inquiry.

"Your business is your own, no doubt," said the man, "but it's my business to ask questions after nightfall."

"We are hobbits from Buckland, and we have a fancy to travel and to stay at the inn here," put in one of the other hobbits standing near Frodo. "I am Mr. Brandybuck. Is that enough for you? The Bree-folk used to be fair- spoken to travellers, or so I had heard." So his name was Brandybuck was it? Aragorn shifted his feet hoping the hobbits guarded their tongues closely.

"All right, all right!" said the man. Aragorn knew him as Harry from a previous encounter. "I meant no offence. But you'll find maybe that more folk than old Harry at the gate will be asking you questions. There's queer folk about. If you go to The Pony, you'll find you're not the only guests." After wishing them a good night the Periannath said nothing more to him. Aragorn watched the man's eyes follow them still curiously when they made their way down the road. The gate clanged shut by Harry's hand, but he still stared after the hobbits. Aragorn stood silently when he saw his chance. Frodo and his companions were moving out of sight soon, so he climbed over the gate once the gatekeeper's back was turned on him and melted into the shadows of the village street. He could see the hobbits' heads looking up and around them at the towering buildings—to them at least—and staring with wide-eyed wonder. They had not seen anything, or been, out of the Shire till now.

A thick man who was tall compared to others in the village, but not Aragorn, glared at him while walking past. Few noticed him unless they came close, and then they did not react kindly. Rangers were known in Bree though not liked. The people feared what they did not know, so they began to despise Rangers of the North. Aragorn pitied them for not understanding that their lives depended on that such kindred. So ignorant, yet still beings.

Frodo had now reached The Prancing Pony inn and entered the two-story building facing the Road. The large door was open letting out streaming warm light from inside. The hobbits walked up the broad steps into it after a raucous song taken up inside had ended. Over the doorway hung a sign painted with a round, white pony and the words: The Prancing Pony by Barliman Butterbur. Aragorn waited across the street holding his cloak close about him. The shadows clung to him while the time passed.

At last the hobbits were led away by Barliman, and Aragorn moved into the doorway, his tall frame almost brushing against the topmost fragment of smooth wood. His height was noted in both places of Men and Elves for he had gained the stature of Elendil and his fathers before him. None was taller who lived.

Nob, who was also a hobbit, scuttled past carrying a tray with empty plates with a grin on his small face. He was in the service of Butterbur. He held candles as well to bring to the parlour where Frodo and his companions were taken. Later, Butterbur and Nob both carried away the food: hot soup, cold meats, blackberry tart, loaves of fresh bread, slabs of butter, and half a ripe cheese. This was after the ale taken to them. Yet before Butterbur could reach their room Aragorn stopped him.

Butterbur's face tightened and he said stiffly, "Yes? What is it you be needing?"

"The hobbits. I must see them, if you would," said Aragorn slipping into the role of Strider.

Butterbur straightened indignantly. "Of course not! They haven't eaten or taken rest. You might catch them if they decide to go into the common room. Be off with you now!" He waved his hands at the Ranger and hurried off with a final glance over his shoulder.

Strider stood watching until he was out of sight around the corner. He let out a frustrated sigh and went into the common room to wait on the hobbits for he was sure they would eventually come out after a meal and mug of Barliman's ale. He sat down in a dark corner to watch and wait. Before him was a tall mug of ale, which he hardly touched even after all was done, and leaf from the Shire for his pipe. He pulled this out of his cloak and lighted it. The wood was light and intricately carved with runes running along the stem. It had been crafted by the Elves; as a gift since they did not smoke. One had been given to Gandalf and Bilbo as well; however, they were all different.

Men sat around the room singing or laughing with drink thick in their throats. There were also hobbits, dwarves, and other travellers at tables together. A pair of dwarves with thick, dark beards spoke to each other quietly as could be heard in the clamour of the common room. Strider fingered the handle on the tankard as he watched with keen grey eyes all those who entered or left. Across the room Bill Ferny wore a frown, taking occasional sips of his drink. Strider shifted in his chair when he saw Ferny was there. That man was ever a nuisance and problem-causing man. If he did not know better Strider would have said the dark-eyed man was a spy of the Enemy. He knew they watched in the most unlikely places.

Frodo then walked into the room with the others excepting Master Brandybuck. From where he sat he could see one hobbit standing protectively by his side while the other stared with open wonder mingled with joy at the room. That one looked to be trouble if he got ahold of too much drink. They all sat at a table and were introduced to all those around. Master Baggins was named Underhill as Strider expected by the talk before arriving in Bree. All in the room began asking questions of the Shire as well as inquiring the reason why Mr. Underhill was there in their village. He told them he was writing a book. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at hearing that bit of information.

They began to get freer with their tongues as the night dragged on. Strider sat tense in his shadowed corner. Suddenly Frodo seemed to see him there, so he appeared as though uninterested in anything and looked in another direction for the time being. Frodo made a gesture to Barliman to stop him. Strider knew he was asking about him. It had begun at last.


	18. Resolved

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The last chap. up (ch. 17) happens to be one of my faves and I am glad you all enjoyed it so much. It is rather exciting to be writing about the War of the Ring from different perspectives :). Special thanks to Valia-Elf, lindahoyland, and Natulcien who have all been wonderfully supportive of the story!!! You guys rock!! Enjoy ch. 18!

The sun rose in a flash of colour. Golden light cascaded down from the heavens to light upon the Elven-city of Imladris where the Elves yet dwell. Gold clashed with emerald and sapphire in the lands nearby where sunlight met against foliage and water. The flowing river sparkled like shimmering diamonds running along the valley beneath the eaves of the colour-changing trees. Autumn had come at last.  
  
Arwen Undómiel sat with her feet tucked beneath her, slender hands latched on to a book, long shadowy hair cascading down her back and over her shoulder, and back against a tree by the stream. The shade of the tree covered her, yet plenty of light was had for reading. Her hair shimmered as it caught the light of the sun reflecting off the rushing waters to the side as did her palely brilliant skin. But what was truly resplendent was her face, stunningly so. There was none more beautiful that lived or had in the Third Age of Middle-earth. Arwen's sharp grey eyes shifted to silver or shining starlight when she turned her head while full mouth turned up in a warm smile ever so often.  
  
The book she read held an amazing collection of lays written over the ages since the beginning of time. Some came from Eldamar when the Noldorin left the white shores to return to Middle-earth in search of the Silmarils while others were of the Silvan Elves who never left the land of Endorenna. None were written by the race of Men.  
  
Her smile slowly departed from that lovely face once she came to the Lay of Lúthien. The grief joined with joy reached out to her heart as soon as she began. So many times before she had thought of the tale telling of the Mortal Man Beren coming upon the beautiful Elf-maiden Lúthien of Doriath and his love for her. She in turn came to love him as well, so they met in secret in the wooded land beyond the Elven-home. Her beauty was so great that no Elf or Man could help but love her, yet Beren loved her more than any. There was so much pain, so much grief in their lives.  
  
Arwen flipped through the pages without finishing it. In the end Beren Erchamion and Lúthien Tinúviel were wed at last when he retrieved a shining Silmaril from the iron crown of Morgoth. Thingol Singollo, her father, had made it a price for her—for he loved her more than anything else in all of Middle-earth—thinking it impossible.  
  
"Impossible," she murmured. "Sometimes that is how it seems." She looked to the North and sighed.  
  
Glorfindel had left only days ago to search for Aragorn and the hobbits he was guiding. Gandalf had arrived in Rivendell, yet he was worried for them. They had been ahead of him in their journeying until then. Elrond asked the golden-haired Glorfindel to go out into the land to find the small band. Frodo Baggins was a part of this group, the one who carried the Ring with him. Gandalf said the Nine were following them and they might have already had an encounter since he himself had had to ward them off on Amon Sûl.  
  
_I do hope not. If Aragorn is there he will keep them safe, but...what will happen to him? The Nazgûl are the most feared of Sauron for a reason, and if all nine are present...he may not be able to do much for the hobbits. Ilúvatar keep him safe from the Enemy!  
_  
Arwen hoped against hope that was not the reason for their slow coming. Although, something in her heart told her there was nothing to fear for she would know if Aragorn was slain; or even harmed.  
  
_I should speak with Mithrandir_, she thought before closing the book gently and standing to her feet in one fluid movement. Her unshod feet moved across the grass without a noise, sinking into the soft earth but without leaving a trace. The air was still, the wind did not blow. Branches of the trees did not move at all. It was as if all was waiting along with her for those who bore the fate of Middle-earth to return.  
  
She passed many Elves on her way and each one stared as she passed. The Elves had heard of her presence there in Rivendell, yet few caught a glimpse of the renowned Elf for she remained solitary or with those of her own blood. Some Elves smiled warmly to her in swift greeting. When they did she returned it with one of her own which seemed to surprise them. It did not take Arwen long to reach the halls where Gandalf was staying for the time. She trod them hoping to see him, but no sight of the Istari did she see.  
  
When Gandalf had spoken to Elrond and her, his voice had taken on a sense of urgency and worry which usually never occurred with the wizard. He truly felt anxious for Frodo and the others. Father had sent Glorfindel, but that may not have made a difference in any case. How will the Elf find them? Arwen bit her lip in concern sending up a prayer for her beloved and the dear hobbits. She knew they would be stricken after their journey through such terrible peril if they reached Imladris.  
  
Bilbo Baggins inquired of Gandalf everything he would let out of his young cousin and how he fared. Bilbo had been wringing his hands and muttering to himself lately. Gandalf said something under his breath about it being good it was Frodo Bilbo was thinking of and not the Ring that was drawing ever closer. Arwen felt a shudder run down her back when she thought of the One Ring coming to Imladris so soon where she dwelt. The things she had heard of it were appalling and dreadful knowing so much evil rested in so small a thing.

* * *

Arwen stood with Glorfindel speaking urgently with him. Aragorn, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Glorfindel had all arrived the night of the 20 of October. It was now the 22. Frodo was being tended by Elrond, for weeks before he had been stabbed by a Morgul blade in the hands of the Witch-king, the Black Captain of Minas Morgul, who led the Ringwraiths. Four had finally caught up to the small company on Weathertop after leaving Bree and attacked the camp. Aragorn defended them as best he could, yet Frodo had slipped the Ring on his finger in desperation, jolting himself into the shadow-world where the Ringwraiths dwelt forever more.  
  
Glorfindel struggled to stifle a smile. "Aragorn was not harmed in the flight to the Ford." Then his face grew more solemn. "He did much for the Periannath. I wonder at his endurance and valiant heart facing the Nazgûl since there are not many who can even stand in their presence; particularly in the kindred of Men for they were once Men themselves." He no longer had to struggle to conceal a smile at the mention of the Nazgûl.  
  
"Glorfindel, I thank you for being willing to share your knowledge with me" Arwen paused, "...and other things," she added with a raise of her eyebrow. "Elrond would not say much in my presence."  
  
"Really? Now I have told you everything there is to know, and he will have my hide for it." He sighed. "Ai."  
  
Arwen smiled as she stared out into the valley filled with golden light.  
  
"Frodo will wake soon," said Glorfindel quietly, "and there shall be feasting indeed. I did not believe hobbits could be so resilient to the power of the Dark Lord when even some Elves might not have lasted so long with a wound such as that. It is remarkable."  
  
"Indeed. If he is anything alike his older cousin Bilbo he shall rise to what no Halfling has ever come near before. There is much in store for the young hobbit. He shall bear a burden very few could carry."  
  
"You are entangled in his fate somehow, Undómiel," said Glorfindel looking towards her with shining eyes. "I do not know how, yet you are a part of this immense and grand tale. You and Aragorn both."  
  
They were suddenly approached by another Elf who stood at Glorfindel's exact height. He greeted them warmly.  
  
"Master Elrond says to impart to you that we have many guests walking abroad. Greet them as if they were your own kindred for there are Elves of both Mirkwood and the Grey Havens, Dwarves of Erebor, and others who arrive even this day. He said to also tell you of Frodo Baggins for he knows of your interest. The Perian is being healed and shall awaken soon after he is rested completely. The splinter of blade has finally been removed."  
  
"Ai! That is good," said Glorfindel. "Thank you."  
  
The tall Elf nodded his head to them, not without wonder after glancing at Arwen, as he glided across the stone floor away from them. Glorfindel watched him until he could be seen rounding a corner.  
  
"Fair tidings in dark times. I must see Erestor and speak with him briefly, Arwen. Till we meet again." He gave a bend of his long torso and left with a faint smile on his lips. Arwen stared at his receding back. She turned away at last to look out again on the fair valley of Imladris for a moment. She began to walk through the halls.  
  
While she was strolling through the rooms and corridors a tall figure came towards her from the shadows. She looked up quickly to find Legolas Greenleaf standing before her with a warm smile.  
  
He bowed. "Arwen, I did not expect to find you here."  
  
"Legolas! I must say the same for you as well. Why is it you are here in Rivendell? Truly it is a pleasure to see you again though," she said.  
  
He laughed, the sound like calm waves of the sea. "That is good." His face became grave. "The reason I have come is to be seen in time, my friend. Not even Elrond knows of it yet."  
  
Arwen's eyes glinted. "That is rather surprising. He knows everything before anyone else can even know of its existence...till now I guess. Have you spoken with him at all?" Legolas shook his head. "Something is about to happen that will change much in these dark days."  
  
"Yes, I can feel it also; and it all revolves around one thing. The Ring."  
  
Arwen looked around quickly to see if anyone could hear. She hushed him. "That is not something I would speak of so openly, Legolas. Not everyone in Rivendell knows this...thing of the Dark One is here. Some do not even know of the Nazgûl leaving Minas Morgul and riding into the North lands. Elves—though to Men it may seem odd—can worry as well. Their calm, collected shell can be very deceiving as I have figured over the many years of my life."  
  
Legolas laughed lightly once more. "Strange to think of is it not?"  
  
"Yes," Arwen smiled.  
  
Another Elf stepped lightly down the hall. His deep golden hair glinted in the fading sun. Arwen grasped Legolas' arm. "Let us go down this way, my friend." Legolas glanced over at her strangely wondering what was wrong. He asked quietly. "The Elf approaching is called Cemendur of Lothlórien. Trust in me; he is not one you wish to meet with when I am around."  
  
"Does he disfavour you, Arwen? I do not see how that could be," said Legolas watching Cemendur's slow-moving form. He had his eyes lowered to the ground, but his back was as straight as it would go.  
  
Arwen shook her head, dark strands of hair falling about her face. Two small braids amid the rest were tied at the back while all else was let down. She whispered, "Cemendur has taken a strong liking towards me, yet I cannot return his love for I love another. It has broken him to know this; especially when the man I love is a mortal. Do not continue on this way, if you please, or I shall have to leave you. I do not wish to meet with him again after what has occurred." She began to drop behind, but Legolas took her arm in his and pulled her forward.  
  
"Undómiel, you must face your fears," he said with a wide grin. "This Cemendur shall not dare do anything while I am with you. By the look on your face I guess that Aragorn has felt his wrath."  
  
Arwen nodded. "Cemendur hates him. In turn I must scorn Cemendur for it pains me to think of that hate. Hating Aragorn brings my wrath upon him. If he begins to speak to me I might wound him with my sharp tongue; that is what I fear, not him. Legolas...I do not know why you are doing this!"  
  
He continued grinning as they came close enough to Cemendur that he noticed them. Cemendur's bright eyes seemed dim to the light within Legolas' blue depths when he looked up slowly. They widened considerably once he did.  
  
Legolas nodded his head to him. "Cemendur. How fare you?"  
  
Cemendur opened his mouth to speak, yet it closed again after meeting Arwen's keen grey gaze. Legolas watched them carefully. They held that gaze for what seemed a lifetime until Cemendur sighed deeply.  
  
"Arwen Evenstar, I must tell you something important. Your...friend...would excuse us?"  
  
"His name is Legolas of Mirkwood, and he is able to hear anything you must say to me. He is very trustworthy."  
  
Cemendur eyed Legolas warily before speaking anything further. "I have realised something: my heart may be with you, yet yours is not with mine. Because of this I became angry, disconcerted, and...outright furious against the mortal Aragorn. Lately my heart has been speaking to me desperately. Whatever I have done please forgive me for it since I, at length, stopped myself to see what was happening inside, finding the cauldron of terrible feelings and changed this. I may still love you; however, I know you love another still. May you both come together and live long even if death does come to you." He bowed low, his golden hair falling forward over his shoulders.  
  
"Cemendur," Arwen said reaching out a hand to him, "I have always thought you kind, a wonderful Elf. You are still a friend to me if you wish it."  
  
The corners of his mouth turned up with a slight smile, and he took her hand and bowed over it. He straightened once more saying, "Many thanks to you, Evenstar of the Elves. Starlight shines in you and on to me. May the blessings of the Valar go with you."  
  
Arwen thanked him as well when he walked away with a burden lifted from his slim shoulders. His step appeared lighter.  
  
"Legolas...that was one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed in all my lifetime."  
  
Legolas chuckled quietly as they continued walking down the enchanting hallways of Rivendell.


	19. The Feast

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I love reading everyone's feedback!! It just makes the rest of the day so lovely :). Valia-Elf: yeah, I am glad Arwen and Cemendur worked everything out. It makes things so much easier :). lindahoyland: I totally agree!! I feel so sorry for her with all the anxiety she must feel for Aragorn always being in some sort of danger. Enjoy ch. 19 everyone!!!

Frodo Baggins was healed. The piece of blade in his shoulder had finally been found and removed. He at last awoke to find he was in Rivendell with Gandalf at his side. As soon as it was known Frodo was no longer sleeping in his bed, preparations had begun for the feasting.

Arwen caught her father's arm as she approached him. The circlet of silver upon his brow caught the light as he turned.

"Father, where art your sons and the Lord Aragorn? They both have not been seen."

"They are on errantry, all three. I am sorry they could not be here in time for the feast. They shall be missed this night."

"Indeed they shall. What of Frodo? Is he truly healed?" asked Arwen.

Master Elrond nodded his head and told her of his state. The hobbit was fully restored at last although hungry after days of being abed. Arwen smiled at that. There were going to be many guests at the table that night for it seemed a gathering was taking place in Imladris.

"Almost all are here that will be," said Elrond in low tones to Arwen. He had leaned closer to her. "There shall be a council tomorrow."

"A council. Yes. Strange how all have come at the same span of time to Rivendell to seek counsel with its lord. There is nothing left but to have merrymaking and feasting tonight and speak of the dark times we are in tomorrow. It shall be long in the talking once you begin, my father."

He nodded with grim determination set in his ageless features. "We will meet again tonight when all is joyous. Farewell for now, beloved daughter of mine. Do not be late." Elrond parted from Arwen Evenstar with a gracious smile and his eyes glinting with starlight.

"Farewell," Arwen whispered to his back. She sighed and wandered the halls waiting for the bells to chime to signal the starting of the feast. That day she had seen two Dwarves also walking the halls, an Elf of the Grey Havens called Galdor, and Elves of Rivendell whispering together excitedly like they had not in years. The coming of a Perian bearing the fate of Middle-earth after being chased by Ringwraiths caused much talk in the valley. Now there were few around for most were preparing for the long night donning fine attire. Arwen herself wore garments of soft grey, plain only with a girdle of silver leaves set on her waist. Her dark hair gleamed in braids like the twilight with a cap of silver lace upon her shadowed head netted with glittering white gems. They were like stars flickering in the night sky of her hair. Her face seemed set among unsullied light and her eyes were aflame with the light of the stars. There was none fairer that walked the earth even in the lands of Aman.

* * *

At last the bells rang with a sweet sound across the elven-city signalling the start of the feasting and merriment. Arwen made her way quickly to the hall so she might see those who were attending. She peered into the great hall where a long table was set in the middle with a grand chair at its head where Elrond always sat at meat.

There were those who already arrived and Arwen did not enter for she remembered Elrond telling her to meet with him so they could enter unto the hall together. She found him not long after waiting for her.

"Arwen, there has been made a special place for you in the middle of the table where there is a canopy. You might have seen it already," he said quietly.

Arwen nodded setting her hand on his arm. When all had come Elrond and she set foot in the room with an air about them that spoke of their kinship and brilliance. Elrond led her past the row of attendants who were staring with wonderment at the fair maiden untouched by the many years of her life. Her soft grey skirts brushed the floor as she was placed by a chair beneath a canopy. She raised her eyes from the table to look to Elrond who was just coming to his place at the table's head. All whispering and quiet conversation halted. The Lord of Rivendell motioned with his hands for all to sit as he seated himself.

Some cast bewildered glances her way once the feasting began between conversations. There at the sides of Elrond sat Glorfindel and Gandalf.

Glorfindel's golden hair glimmered and his sharp eyes were lustrous sea-coloured gems set in a face of eternal youth and fairness glowing with joy. He sat straight and tall as a lord. When he laughed the sound was like a peal of bells ringing in the clear night air. His eyes shown also with wisdom alongside nobility.

Gandalf's long white hair and long silver beard were combed to perfection unlike at other times when they seemed unkempt and wild like his bushy eyebrows. His dark eyes darted around like birds flitting from branch to branch watching their surroundings with merriment from deep within.

Arwen's eyes scanned the length of the table in vain for sign of the Ranger she wished to see. He was not there. Neither were the dark-haired sons of Elrond. She did spot Frodo Baggins sitting not far away beside a dwarf of Erebor called Glóin who was clothed in white harmonising with his forked white beard; but Frodo drew her attention. He had donned garments of good green cloth. His dark, curling hair hung over his ears, yet she could still see their pointed tips poking out of the curls. He had bright blue eyes that stared with wide-wonder at all the noble people at the feast. He was fair of face with ruddy cheeks that made cheerful his appearance.

His three other companions sat nearer the dais where Elrond was. They all had curling hair and bright eyes that danced with laughter. Their voices were high-pitched compared to those of the Elves and others there that night.

All sorts of foods, delicacies or plain, covered the lengthy dining table providing anything that was wanted. Some things the Elves favoured, others Dwarves, and hobbits ate more of certain varieties. Wine of different sorts were passed around and poured into goblets of shining silver for each person present.

Arwen sipped dark wine, looking over the rim to where Elrond was seated. His face was jovial. She listened to the many discussions on the two sides; none of them interested her in particular for all were avoiding the talk of the Shadow falling upon Middle-earth.

It was the end at long length. Elrond passed a glance to Arwen and she nodded her head to him in consent. They stood as one to leave the hall. Arwen walked to him setting her arm in his once more as they went into the corridor on their way to the Hall of Fire where a fire burned at all times. At its end there was a grand hearth between two mighty columns. There was a place previously made ready for Elrond, and Arwen found a chair for herself at his side.

Everyone else had followed in pairs behind them also entering the Hall of Fire. They gathered around the room in their places. The elven minstrels soon began. The sweet sound of their voices singing of brilliant stars, radiant light, and all things beautiful lifted in the room like a sweet mist of glimmering gold.

Before Elrond was seated he went to the side of a small, shrouded figure sitting alone with a cup of cool water and plain bread (if you could call the bread of the Elves plain) at his feet. He spoke to him to awaken while Frodo was standing close by watching carefully. The small figure removed the piece of cloak from his head and Arwen smiled to see Frodo's profound delight of reuniting with his older cousin Bilbo Baggins. The old hobbit smiled warmly when he greeted his beloved fellow Baggins who immediately sat near him to speak of things of their home, the Shire.

It was not until then Elrond came to his place by the Evenstar close to the hearth where the firelight flickered in her grey eyes. He said nothing, but listened to the lays sung and the tales told.

A long time later, she looked up when another came into the hall. Her eyes shone with sudden mirth, the dancing light making them seem alive. She watched the exceedingly tall man beckoned by Bilbo with a wrinkled hand who still sat trading tales with Frodo away from others. He went to them and listened to what Bilbo has asked of him. Apparently the hobbit wished a favour for Aragorn nodded his head and they went alone into a corner to speak with one another in low tones that Arwen could not hear.

Soon after they came to an agreement and Bilbo returned to his place calling the attention of some of the Elves, Lindir included. They came near him for he asked them to listen to his lay and tell him which lines were the Dúnadan's or his. Bilbo cleared his throat before he began his song.

Arwen had lowered her eyes at the first few lines for the song spoke of her forefather. It was strange to hear another singing of his glory. A shudder ran down her spine after the clear sound had ended. When she raised her eyes again Aragorn stood near her listening as well. He appeared to come out of his reverie at the same time and he turned his eyes upon her. Aragorn stepped forward.

"Lady Undómiel," he said softly meeting her gaze, his grey eyes shining with light. "I told him if he had the cheek to sing of Eärendil in the house of Elrond it was his own affair. I do hope he did not stir too much inside of you."

Arwen felt his piercing gaze glaze over with deep love from within his heart. "Nay, it did not; although, if it did, it was in a good way, Lord Aragorn." He was clad in elven-mail with a shimmering star upon his breast. He also wore a dark cloak that he had thrown back.

A song to Elbereth was lifted up suddenly above all other noise like a clear beacon.

_A Elbereth Gilthoniel,_

_silivren penna míriel _

_a menel aglar elenath!_

_Na-chaered palan-díriel _

_o galadhremmin ennorath,_

_Fanuilos, le linnathon_

_nef aear, sí nef aearon!_

Arwen listened in one ear, yet spoke with Aragorn using the other. The song was a common one among the Elves and sung at evening. The Elf who sang had a clear, harmonious voice that wove visions before the eyes of those who listened.

"You missed the feast, Aragorn," said Arwen looking up at him with fondness. "What kept you?"

His face darkened. "There are duties I must tend to and put off mirth for a while. I would have been there if I was permitted to put off responsibility."

"Yes, yet I would not have you do that. You must do what you must."

A faint smile appeared on his worn but handsome face. "Of course," he said. His voice lowered even more. "It has been long, Undómiel. The years lay heavily on my shoulders from being away for all this time."

"As they do on mine," she murmured then turned her head to look in the direction of the hobbits. Frodo and Bilbo were leaving the room, but Frodo had turned round when the song to Elbereth reached his ears. Now he was gazing at Aragorn and Arwen. She met his gaze and the hobbit felt the light and wisdom shining from afar. Frodo finally turned away guided by Bilbo into the halls so they could talk in peace. They left Sam sleeping.

Arwen returned her eyes to Aragorn once more. He was still watching her. A smile graced her more than beautiful features as she intertwined her gaze with his.

* * *

Aragorn and Arwen had left the company of those in the Hall of Fire to walk beneath the shining stars and in the cool air of night. Arwen smiled when she felt his gentle hand slip into hers as they stepped out under the dark heavens and clasped it warmly in return.

"I have heard of your toilsome journey, 1. meldanya," she said softly. "It is a most extraordinary tale. It would make a wonderful account in the Hall of Fire before the great hearth."

"Indeed it would, yet it would be best told by Frodo or his companions for they have endured strange journeys before I came to them." He held her hand to his chest placing his other over their entwined fingers. "It will be most intriguing to hear of it tomorrow."

"Elrond said there was to be a council, so I deem you know of it."

Aragorn nodded and gazed up into the heavens.

"Will you impart to me your part of the tale from Bree to here?" asked Arwen looking up into his eyes. "Little was truly said of it."

He smiled softly. "Of course, meldanya, for you shall not be at the council tomorrow, I deem."

"Nay, Estel, it is not a woman's place to do so."

So Aragorn recounted all he could recall of the curious and unexpected occurrences in the journey from the village of Bree to the valley of Imladris. Arwen shuddered to hear of the Nine loose upon Middle-earth—and in the Northern lands no less—and the attack upon Amon Sûl where Frodo had received his terrible injury. When he spoke of the great rushing torrent of the Bruinen coming upon the Black Riders, she suddenly remembered the Ring of Sapphire in her father's keeping.

Aragorn fell silent when he came to Rivendell. "You know of the rest, I suppose. Frodo is healed and the Nine are, for now, unhorsed and unshaped."

"That is well," said Arwen. "We will face this darkness...and we will not fall back before it. You have never faltered in your step, so I pray you still keep on steady feet where the ground may worsen."

He held her face in his hand. "Your heart is strong, my love. There are still places, or people, where his arm cannot reach. We all will remain strong while this trouble lasts until we finally destroy it.

Arwen leaned her head against his shoulder. "I know, Estel. I truly know."

* * *

In the grey of the morning Arwen watched the land closely for her far-seeing grey eyes had spotted a figure on a horse heading towards Rivendell. His garments were not those of the Elves or of the Dúnedain so she patiently waited for the man who had broad shoulders and chest along with powerful arms. It was surely a Man, not one of another Free Folk.

He finally rode through the ivy-covered arch that was an entrance to Rivendell. His dark hair shorn at the shoulders ruffled in the morning breeze. He had eyes of grey and a fair and noble face that was stern. Pride was in his glance as was the seriousness of his affair. Rich garments were stained with travel. The cloak he wore about his shoulders was lined with fur and his collar was set with a white gem that sparkled even in the dim morning. Arwen's eye was drawn to a horn tipped with silver that he carried with him as he dismounted.

A dark-haired Elf came out to greet him and had his horse taken care of. Arwen watched until the man could be seen no more since he had entered with the Elf. She knew he was to be at the council that was fast-approaching.

The sun was, at last, beginning to rise above the mountains sending its golden rays out across the lands covering them in soft light. Feathery clouds were outlined in gold where they sat in the grey heavens near the East as were the mountains. Sunlight was laced in and out of the many trees in the forest when it approached the dwellings of Imladris. A light, silver mist transformed into shimmering, golden mist along the forest floor furling about the mighty boles of the trees as if it were given life.

Arwen beheld this display with admiration shining in her grey eyes. Beauty still lingered in some lands and was unsullied by shadow.

* * *

_1. my beloved_


	20. The Fellowship of the Ring

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It has all begun!! Everything is set in motion...but I have to say that there will not be an extreme amount of writing during the War of the Ring since most everything is told in the _Lord of the Rings. _I will do some things from different point of views though. I am very glad so many people are enjoying the story. This ch. has some dialogue from the books since it all fits with the storyline mostly with Elrond speaking in a certain part...so enjoy ch. 20!!

The Council of Elrond lasted for the entire day while they discussed the many troubles and doubts of those who had arrived. Silence seemed to have settled on Imladris during this time for there was no sound of trilling birds, songs sung by the Elves, or the wind rustling in the branches.

When they finally began to disperse from the Council, the attendants' faces all looked weary or thoughtful or anxious. None would speak much of it afterwards. Scouts were sent out to the East, West, North, and South to see if any sign of the Nazgûl could be found. Aragorn had gone with Elrohir and Elladan to help with the patrolling of the lands and to give notice to the Rangers.

Arwen despaired at having only one moment with Aragorn. It had been long since she was with him, the years weighing heavily in her bosom.

Elves began to return one by one (or two) as did Aragorn with the sons of Elrond who had journeyed far. No sign of the Ringwraiths was found whatsoever, so Elrond knew the time was drawing nigh for the Ring to leave Imladris. Arwen had been with him in those times he was troubled and comforted the misgiving in his soul. She truly had been a star in the dark heavens for her father. He had told her Frodo had spoken up to take the One Ring into the lands of Mordor where it had to be destroyed in the fires from whence it came; the Mountain of Doom or Orodruin. It was the only way to be rid of it at last and of Sauron its Master. Sam, Frodo's constant companion, was to go with him. Elrond and Arwen discussed who else should endure the long, perilous journey.

"Mithrandir should surely go," murmured Elrond rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "This is a task he shall be of great service in."

"They should represent all the Free Peoples of Middle-earth," said Arwen watching him with glistening eyes.

He nodded with sudden thought sparkling in his own grey eyes like the grey of dawn. "Men, Dwarves, and Elves. There are already Hobbits. The rest I shall choose once I inform Frodo of this. Those who go must depart soon while there is still time to be had."

"Indeed, Elrond. Use your wisdom in your decisions. This is no small thing."

All were called to Elrond once more to make known to them who were to go on the Quest of the Ring. Arwen watched from the shadows.

"And I will choose you companions to go with you, as far as they will or fortune allows. The number must be few, since your hope is in speed and secrecy. Had I a host of Elves in armour of the Elder Days, it would avail little, save to arouse the power of Mordor," said Elrond speaking to Frodo. "The Company of the Ring shall be Nine; and the Nine Walkers shall be set against the Nine Riders that are evil. With you and your faithful servant, Gandalf will go; for this shall be his great task, and maybe the end of his labours." He paused to look around him. "For the rest, they shall represent the other Free Peoples of the World: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Legolas shall be for the Elves; and Gimli son of Glóin for the Dwarves. They are willing to go at least to the passes of the Mountains, and maybe beyond. For men you shall have Aragorn son of Arathorn, for the Ring of Isildur concerns him closely."

Arwen lowered her head to stare at the ground. Her soul ached with the thought of Aragorn going into such peril, yet she knew in her heart it was his fate and that he would rise above all of his fathers because of this journey. He was also one of the few who could survive the quest because of his skills in the Wild.

"Strider!" cried Frodo.

"Yes," Aragorn said with a smile. "I ask leave once again to be your companion, Frodo."

_So he had asked._ Arwen nodded her head knowingly. She knew Aragorn well, so it was foreseen.

"I would have begged you to come," said Frodo, "only I thought you were going to Minas Tirith with Boromir."

"I am," said Aragorn. "And the Sword-that-was-Broken shall be re-forged ere I set out to war. But your road and our road lie together for many hundreds of miles. Therefore Boromir will also be in the Company. He is a valiant man."

_Boromir is his name then. Elrond never mentioned him. A man from Gondor, the Steward's son no doubt, seeks the Sword-that-was-Broken. Aragorn's time draws nigh and his fate shall come upon him quicker than he might have thought. Eru, guard and keep him safe upon his road for it shall be more perilous than any before. _

Elrond watched with a grave expression on his fair face of immortal wisdom. The long years of his life showed not in his face, but in the depths of his grey eyes. Those eyes full of knowledge and experience watched Aragorn with fatherly love and pride of what the matured man he had embraced as his own long ago had become. A smile would have graced his face if the circumstances were not so sombre.

Elrond turned his attention to other things. "There remain two more to be found," said Elrond. "These I will consider. Of my household I may find some that it seems good to me to send."

"But that would leave no place for us!" cried one of the hobbits called Pippin in dismay. "We don't want to be left behind. We want to go with Frodo."

"That is because you do not understand and cannot imagine what lies ahead," said Elrond.

In this Arwen agreed even though something stirred within that moved her to side with the young hobbit. She waited for her father's answer wondering what his decision would be in the matter. He had not spoken of the other two Periannath in their speech together nor of their fates.

"Neither does Frodo," said Gandalf, unexpectedly supporting Pippin. Arwen smiled slightly in his direction though he did not see her. "Nor do any of us see clearly. It is true that if these hobbits understood the danger, they would not dare to go. But they would still wish to go, or wish that they dared, and be shamed and unhappy. I think, Elrond, that in this matter it would be well to trust rather to their friendship than to great wisdom. Even if you chose for us an elf-lord, such as Glorfindel, he could not storm the Dark Tower, nor open the road to the Fire by the power that is in him."

Glorfindel, in a place near Elrond, nodded his head in consent for he knew full well that Gandalf's words were true. Elrond looked down at his feet shifting uncomfortably.

"You speak gravely," said Elrond, "but I am in doubt. The Shire, I forebode, is not free now from peril; and these two I had thought to send back there as messengers, to do what they could, according to the fashion of their country, to warn the people of their danger. In any case, I judge that the younger of these two, Peregrin Took, should remain. My heart is against his going."

"Then, Master Elrond, you will have to lock me in prison, or send me home tied in a sack," said Pippin. Arwen smiled again at his outburst full of passion. "For otherwise I shall follow the Company."

"Let it be so then. You shall go," said Elrond, and he sighed. "Now the tale of Nine is filled. In seven days the Company must depart."

In those remaining seven days Aragorn and Gandalf spoke together often of the long road ahead of them and the Company of Nine. The Sword of Elendil was re-forged at last after long ages gone from the world engraved with seven stars, a crescent moon, the sun, and runes. The sword's light had returned to its past glory once more and shone with light of sun and moon gleaming as it moved. In a sheath it was placed at Aragorn's side, the Heir of Elendil, who alone could wield it.

Arwen Undómiel found Aragorn alone the day before the Company was to depart. He was deep in thought, the Sword of Elendil lain across his knees where he sat. Careful attention and reverence were in his hands as he ran his fingers along the length of the sheath with eyes that held a light of the stars, rare among the race of Men. Dark locks of hair had fallen forward into his face as he bent down his head looking at the sword.

Arwen glided forward to him and he immediately felt her draw near. He rose to his feet slowly as he slipped the sword in its sheath onto his belt.

"Undómiel," he said quietly, "I fear I shall not see you for many months as we have had to endure before." He reached out to take her delicate hands in his.

"I know," she said just as quietly, "but my thoughts will guard and be with you along the way through peril or peace, joy or grief as they have been during all the years before."

Aragorn looked down at their clasped hands. Arwen knew he was struggling with whether or not to say something that came across his mind. He looked up to meet her gaze.

"Arwen," he began, "you still have a chance. You can still leave these shores with your kin. It would be better for you to live than to die for my sake. So much suffering should not be yours."

"No Aragorn," Arwen said lifting a hand to his face. "I will not take that ship...nor any other that may ever come. There is only one path I shall take and it is with you. Great deeds and glory await you on your journey, son of Arathorn; your fate is coming into place with mine beside it."

Aragorn clasped her hand to his heart with joy and love glistening in his eyes turning from grey to silver in one instant. "And there is no other path for me but to be with you though I bear a burden of the grief at its end for you and for the parting with your blood. You know you shall never again see your brothers, your father, or your kin in Valinor?"

Arwen's lips trembled. "Yes, I know it well. I have cloven unto you, my beloved. No other."

Aragorn lifted her chin when she lowered her face in sorrow. "And for that I love you the more." He leaned forward and kissed her.

"May the blessings of the Valar go with you and they keep you on your road though it be long," murmured Arwen.

At dusk, when the chill of winter was at its greatest, the Company was made ready to depart. Arwen rushed out of the great hall throwing a dark cloak lined with fur over her shoulders to clasp it at the throat for the cold was even exceptional for the Elves at such an hour of the day. She came outside where many Elves of Rivendell stood to see the Nine Walkers on their way with blessings of their kin as well as those of all the other Free Peoples. Arwen caught the last words of Elrond.

"Look not too far ahead! But go now with good hearts! Farewell, and may the blessings of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!"

Aragorn had the Sword of Elendil—newly named Andúril, Flame of the West, though once it was called Narsil—at his side hidden beneath the warm cloak he wore over travelling green and rusty brown garments. Gandalf not only had his staff but also the sword Glamdring. He still wore his pointed blue hat as was his wont. Frodo and the other three hobbits—Sam, Pippin, and Merry—wore short blades that to them were swords along with warm clothing. Boromir fingered the silver-tipped horn of Gondor hanging from his belt with a gloved hand while Gimli slipped his axe onto his back. The dwarf was the only one of the Nine who wore chain mail or any sort of armour whatsoever. Arwen smiled when she saw Legolas standing poised, ready to spring into action at any moment, with his cherished bow he was famed for in the elven-lands slung over his shoulder. She had bid him farewell the day before with a grieving heart for he was a dear friend to both her and Aragorn.

"Good...good luck!" cried Bilbo stuttering with the cold. "I don't suppose you will be able to keep a diary, Frodo my lad, but I shall expect a full account when you get back. And don't be too long! Farewell!" The old hobbit only stayed outside long enough to say farewell and returned to the warm comforts of inside since in his old age the cold bit more deeply than in earlier years.

All those of Elrond's household stood in the shadows and watched them go, bidding them farewell with soft voices. There was no laughter, and no song or music. At last they turned away and faded silently into the night.

Arwen felt a piece of her heart leave with them. She gazed into the dim shadows, even after they were out of even elven-sight, and could not move away. She felt a comforting hand rest lightly on her arm.

"Arwen, they will be safe for a time," Elrond said in a low voice. He was also watching where they had gone. "He has a fate too precious to be thrown away."

"I know it well, Elrond my father, yet I fear for them all. They will go through great perils that many men cannot dream of; especially the young hobbits. They will be utterly transformed in the end. Frodo will bear the greatest hurt and burden of them all," said Arwen softly. The foresight bestowed upon her and her kin caught a hold of her for that brief moment in full might. "I cannot see his end in whole, yet I know there will be much suffering; enough to dim the brightness of his spirited life. Frodo will lose all hope when he is in the midst of the darkest turmoil."

Elrond nodded. "He shall. Samwise will be there nevertheless. That will be the only thing to keep him alive."

Arwen agreed silently. She finally wrested her gaze away from the dark and turned to go inside. Elrond came along beside her with a soothing arm around her shoulders.

"There goes all our hope we have for Middle-earth to remain till the end. If only one of the Company fails to do what he is destined, the world may end and darkness cover all light that remains."

The days passed. The nights faded. The sun rose high into the heavens then dipped behind the mountains, gold light turning to crimson.

Arwen lifted her eyes from her work to rest a moment. She watched the chill wind stir the thick curtains covering the window. A fire burned in the ornate hearth of her quarters keeping the room from the cold of winter that tried to rush in.

On her lap, and spilling over, rested a very large piece of black cloth woven by her own hands with a flowering White Tree covering nearly half of its length. There were a few more portions to be done with the Tree, yet it was well-nigh finished. To the side on a short table carved of dark wood lay bright white gems sparkling in the firelight and pieces of shining mithril and glittering gold not yet formed.

She had had difficulty obtaining these precious gems and metals for all of this the Evenstar did in secret. Not one man or maiden knew of her work late into the evenings closed in her quarters with needle and thread. The White Tree of Gondor had taken much time, but she was finally almost to the next step in the great banner. In his trepidation, Elrond had not noticed her absence among the trees of the forests or the halls of the elven-city. He was the only one she worried would find out.

Arwen resumed her sewing with renewed vigour. She had to finish it in time.


	21. Fate Unfolding

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This ch. is a lot of quick summary to get to certain scenes so bear with me! It just looked strange when I did not have it...Wow, I am glad I am now accepting anynomous reviews since so many popped up when I changed that :D. A lot is covered in this ch. but there is some REALLY good stuff in the next :). I still would _love_ a response to my poem Every Morning if you happen to like poetry (if not that's okay too), but it is pretty sad. Enjoy ch. 21!!

Aragorn breathed in the lively air of the woods of Lothlórien as he stood at the bottom of the hill of Cerin Amroth. The green hill was covered in the golden blooms of elanor and shimmering white niphredil like stars in the grass. White trees circled the hill-top where a flet was placed in their high boughs to look out from that height into the lands of the North, South, West, and, if one ventured, the East.

Much had happened on the Fellowship's journey to the Golden Wood. Knowing Saruman the White, once head of the Istari and White Council, had betrayed all good and allied himself with Sauron, they could not take the path through the Gap of Rohan passing near Isengard, so Gandalf and Aragorn led the Company over Caradhras. But they were hindered on that road by a terrible storm and could not go further, so the Company returned to the base of the harsh mountain with sunken spirits. There was only one other path they could take: the Mines of Moria. Moria was a long and dark road. Aragorn had told Gandalf he would not willingly take the rest into its dark depths, yet it was the only way in the end to pass through the mines once delved by the Dwarves of old. It was now dark, dreary, and dangerous without a living Dwarf in all its dormant halls and mining shafts.

A sharp pain tore at Aragorn's heart. That dark road had brought more grief to them than what any could have imagined. Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir to the Elves, Pilgrim of all the lands of Middle-earth, was lost and fallen into darkness at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. A Balrog, a demon of the Ancient World, had appeared after the Orcs gave chase to the Fellowship taking Gandalf with him when he fell from the bridge.

Aragorn closed his eyes. When he opened them again, things seemed different around him. He stooped briefly to lift one of the golden elanor into his fingers and gaze at its simple beauty. He realised he was deep in memory.

He turned to find a shining figure clothed in white standing before him. Her eyes held the light of the stars and her smooth skin gleamed like glistening moonbeams. Her clear face shone with a beauty not seen since Lúthien Tinúviel for she was of kin to the long-passed maiden of the Elder Days. Long tresses the colour of night fell down her back in braids scattered with bright gems.

Aragorn himself had changed as well. He now wore garments of white and his face was young and fair, all burdens and cares lifted away. "Arwen vanimelda, namárië!" he said, then he drew a breath, and returning out of his thought he looked to find Frodo standing nearby. He had climbed Cerin Amroth with Haldir, their guide and friend of Aragorn, and returned to its base.

"Here is the heart of Elvendom on earth," he said, "and here my heart dwells ever, unless there be a light beyond the dark roads that we still must tread, you and I. Come with me!" And taking Frodo's hand in his, he left the hill of Cerin Amroth and came there never again as living man.

* * *

It was the month of Nénimë, or as it was in the Common Tongue, February. Arwen had finally completed the banner she had woven over time with much work. She gazed upon it one last time. With the threads there had also been woven safekeeping for Arwen had sung songs of blessing while doing her work. It would endure many wars, if brought to it, and hardship; and the one who rightfully bore it for his own would surely be victorious in whatever he did.

* * *

"Halbarad," cried Arwen hurrying to the stern Ranger where he had stopped. They were outside in Rivendell where the leaves had fallen from the trees and they were bare. The earth was also hard and cold, affected by the chill of deep winter. Arwen bore with her a tall staff bound with many thongs. She lowered her voice. "Halbarad, you must do me a favour." The Dúnedain had arrived in Rivendell for only a day for they had had a summons from Aragorn in the South. Arwen had heard Aragorn speak of Halbarad as a close kinsman, therefore she knew they were devoted companions.

"Anything," said Halbarad eyeing the black standard closely fettered after taking in her stunning beauty.

"You and the sons of Elrond depart with the Dúnedain to meet with Aragorn in the lands of the Rohirrim. This you must bear with you for long it has been wrought in secret. No other knows of it," said Arwen in a low voice so no other would hear her words.

"Of course, Lady Undómiel. Would you also give him word?" asked the worn Ranger with sharp grey eyes.

She nodded slowly. "Say to him this..." The Evenstar laid charge upon him to bear up the standard she had made and to deliver her words to Aragorn in the South. Halbarad listened with care and when she had finished he bowed low before her.

"Thank you, Lady Undómiel. Your wishes shall be granted. The Lord Aragorn will be given all you have said." He took the tall, black staff she handed to him looking at it thoughtfully.

"And I also thank you, Halbarad Ranger of the North, for you have done me much service."

Halbarad nodded his head, dark hair with specks of grey moving about his shoulders. He left Arwen to her business as he made his way to the rest of his kin to depart the elven-city.

Arwen went in search of Elrohir and Elladan, the sons of Elrond and her brothers. They had decided to come along with the Dúnedain into battle for that was their ultimate destination. She spotted the two tall, dark-haired Elves standing together speaking in low tones. They looked up when she approached.

"Undómiel," said Elladan, "I am glad it will only be a short while before we come together once more."

"Short even in terms of the years of Men," she answered; "but I am afraid even after that time there will not be much more. May the Valar speed you on your way...and safely." Arwen grasped each of their hands in one of hers with a warm smile illuminating her face.

"Till we meet again," they said in unison and Elladan added, "when the Shadow is departed at last."

Their parting was moving for Arwen loved Elladan and Elrohir for they were her own beloved brothers. She bid them final farewell and let them on their way. They joined the Dúnedain as they continued in their previous quiet discussion.

* * *

The Fellowship departed Lothlórien, travelled down Anduin with gifts of the Elves, and came to Parth Galen after passing the Argonath, Pillar of Kings. There chaos ensued and the Fellowship of the Ring was broken. Boromir, son of Denethor, was killed after slaying all of the Uruks he was able; they were a new breed of Saruman and much more dangerous than those of Mordor.

Frodo and Sam had both left for Mordor alone without consulting anyone else. Merry and Pippin had been captured by the Uruk-hai even though Boromir tried his best to save them in a last attempt to regain honour after what he had done. Boromir confronted Frodo alone, trying to take the Ring in a sudden burst of desire. It was his undoing. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were the only ones remaining.

Aragorn had to make a decision beyond the consequence of any before. He pondered and thought over every good and ill thing if he chose one way or another. Finally, a still voice spoke in his heart and he chose to follow after Merry and Pippin, to track the Uruk-hai of the White Hand.

In the end the Three Hunters met Riders of Rohan led by Éomer son of Éomund and nephew to king Théoden, found the Uruks they were tracking had been killed by the same party, and came to Fangorn forest after many days. There Aragorn found signs of the two hobbits escape into the stagnant woods. The Three Hunters pursued the faint trail with renewed hope straight into the forest's depths.

In Fangorn a sight pleasant and glorious to their eyes was revealed to them. Gandalf had returned. He stood before them in the flesh, yet now he had become Gandalf the White, no longer Gandalf the Grey, for the White of his order was turned over to evil. To Rohan they went on errand to king Théoden and his people.

When they arrived Aragorn could see the ebbing and dwindling of Rohan's past glory and might only by looking at its people. Their faces were filled with sorrow and the children's more solemn than they should have been. The people watched with wonder as the Man, Elf, Dwarf, and Istari rode by on horses of their own city.

Many things happened in the golden halls of Meduseld. One was the mending and healing of Théoden from the wretched state he was moved into by his tainted counsellor called Gríma Wormtongue. Wormtongue was actually a servant and spy of Saruman over the years sent to consume Rohan's king to become a dotard before his years were long. In that hall Éomer was let out of custody to freedom and his sister Éowyn's heart was lightened at Théoden's healing for she loved her uncle as a father.

"Go, Éowyn sister-daughter!" said the old king. "The time for fear is past."

Éowyn turned and went slowly into the house. As she passed the doors she turned and looked back. Grave and thoughtful was her glance, as she looked on the king with cool pity in her eyes. Very fair was her face, and her long hair was like a river of gold. Slender and tall she was in her white robe girt with silver; but strong she seemed and stern as steel, a daughter of kings. Thus Aragorn for the first time in the full light of day beheld Éowyn, Lady of Rohan, and thought her fair, fair and cold, like a morning of pale spring that is not yet come to womanhood. And she now was suddenly aware of him: tall heir of kings, wise with many winters, greycloaked, hiding a power that she yet felt. For a moment still as stone she stood, then turning swiftly she was gone.

Aragorn returned his gaze to Théoden standing beside Gandalf clothed in shining white. He was changed, Théoden was. Strength was returning into his long stationary limbs and now he stood his full height, which was considerable. Gandalf was also changed for no longer did his shoulders stoop or his feet move slowly as if age had affect on him. They appeared two lords of Men.

Éomer was sent for and pardoned for any rash actions he had taken in Théoden's blight. When Théoden called for a sword, he came to offer up his own to his king who reluctantly took the sword in hand. He gave a great cry:

_Arise now, arise, Riders of Théoden!_

_Dire deeds awake, dark is it eastward._

_Let horse be bridled, horn be sounded!_

_Forth Eorlingas!_

His own sword was sought after at once when he commanded and decay lingered not in his face. Gandalf gave counsel to the King of the Mark whilst Aragorn and his two companions watched with renewed joy. The darkness had been pushed away for a time in the house of King Théoden. Gríma Wormtongue, the evil advisor, was brought forward to Théoden who was now no longer under the wretched man's sway as a dotard. Herugrim, the king's ancient blade set with green gems in the hilt, was given to him at last. Once again Wormtongue bandied words with him and in due time was cast out after Gandalf confronted him on his covenant to Saruman the White and his plan to take Éowyn as his prize. Éomer had to be restrained from killing him himself.

At last peace had come. The four guests of Meduseld came to meat with King Théoden along with Éomer, his sister-son, and Éowyn, his sister-daughter. They ate and drank swiftly. Aragorn, without looking, could see from the corner of his eye the small number of glances Éowyn sent his way. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, after taking a bite of bread, following the second glance. Caution stirred in his heart for he knew her mind.

Afterwards, Théoden summoned men to bring raiment of war for his guests. Aragorn, along with Legolas, took shining mail, a helm, and round shield. Green, red, and white gems were set in their bosses overlaid with gold. Gimli was given a shield fit for his stature with the emblem of Rohan: a white horse running in a green field.

The king now rose, and at once Éowyn came forward bearing wine. "Ferthu Théoden hál!" she said. "Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. Health be with thee at thy going and coming!"

First it was proffered up to Théoden and then to his guests in the place of Meduseld of Edoras. Aragorn watched as Éowyn halted before him bearing the cup swishing with dark wine. Her face was fair, but cold, and he saw her pause to lift her eyes and meet his gaze. They were shining like the grey dawn. She had paused in his presence. Aragorn smiled down upon her loveliness until his hand brushed against hers when he took the cup and she trembled at his touch.

"Hail Aragorn son of Arathorn!" she said.

"Hail Lady of Rohan!" he answered, but his face no longer shone with a warm smile for the fair lady. His thoughts drifted to Arwen Undómiel who dwelt now in Rivendell. Her shifting dark hair was braided with small white and green gems while her raiment was of shining white. Her beauty was greater than any maiden that lived. Aragorn felt troubled at Éowyn's warm gaze.

They all moved to the doors of the hall where the guards awaited them. They were riding forth into battle with Saruman the White. When Théoden spoke he commanded his people to appoint an heir to keep the city at his going for he and Éomer were going to war. Each man was silent. Aragorn watched the lords and chiefs of Rohan shifting uncomfortably as Théoden's steady gaze moved to each of them. Háma of the king's guard spoke first. Aragorn nodded his head when Háma said to the king that Éowyn, sister-daughter, should be appointed.

"It shall be so," said Théoden. "Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Éowyn will lead them!"

Éowyn came and knelt before him receiving from him a sword and fair corslet. "Farewell sister-daughter!" he said. "Dark is the hour, yet maybe we shall return to the Golden Hall. But in Dunharrow the people may long defend themselves, and if the battle go ill, thither will come all who escape."

"Speak not so!" she said. "A year shall I endure for ever day that passes until you return." But as she spoke her eyes went to Aragorn who stood nearby.

Aragorn felt a tug on his heart to see such fairness as cold as the chill of winter at its fullest looking to him for warmth that he could not give for his heart was in the North. "The king shall come again," he said. "Fear not! Not West but East does our doom await us."

Now those who were to journey to Helm's Deep moved to the gates. Aragorn turned to look back as they passed the Golden Hall. Éowyn stood alone at the stair's head with the sword upright before her and the corslet of silver glittering like scales in the golden sunlight. She watched all the men, yet her eyes rested on Aragorn for the most part. He turned round again to look forward where he could see the mustering of Rohan. At his side was Legolas walking alongside Gimli, and Éomer who had become a quick friend in times of darkness—for which Aragorn was grateful. They were all brought their horses. Aragorn could feel the eyes of many in Edoras upon him as he mounted; eyes full of despair and fear. He saw the women and children standing silent and grave to see their husbands, sons, and fathers off clinging to hope that they would soon return safely. He looked upon them sadly before turning his horse.

Gandalf whistled. The sound of his voice and his call brought a horse of shining countenance to him. It was Shadowfax, lord of horses, who had been tamed by Gandalf. He was also a gift from Théoden for all that he had done for Rohan and its people; though the king could not see it until in that moment. Gandalf threw off his hat, tossed away his cloak, and was revealed as a great being clothed in resplendent white. The wizard had not taken any mail from Théoden's hoard nor any helm for his head adorned with nothing but his snowy hair shimmering in the soft sunlight.

"Behold the White Rider!" cried Aragorn, and all took up the words. A slight smile reached his face as he saw his long-time friend in all his brilliance. The battle was fast approaching and the light speeding towards the darkness. Who would prevail?


	22. All Things

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I really like this ch. so I think you guys will too. Good stuff here :). I was deciding earlier whether or not to write about Arwen coming to Minas Tirith to wed Aragorn because Tolkien's words about it were just so perfect but...I decided I will try my best to describe it in more personal detail. We will see...Thank you again for your wonderful reviews!! (I hope your computer does not freak out anymore, Natulcien :D). Enjoy ch. 22!!

Arwen unlaced her fingers from each other and straightened her dark red skirts. The waiting began to be unbearable. No new news had reached them in the past month. Stirrings in the East and West were becoming noticeable though no official word had been said in Imladris. Arwen glanced to the side at the lush valley that was still with anticipation. Few birds laid out their song upon the air that morning or evening.

She laid her head back against the soft cushion of the lounging chair in hopes that she could see something of what was happening of late. Nothing. All was silent while the fate of Middle-earth was balancing on the edge of a knife. She could feel the tension in the air and taste it upon her lips. All were bound to it; all were fixed in its path.

1. "Huinë ná telmë i Formen, mornië ná cáno mi i Rómen, lumbë ná taina or i Númen ar Hyarmen. Manen andavëuva cálë turvar Sauron ernauta?"

* * *

Battle raged across the field. Death was a common stench. Helm's Deep had become a blood-bath to Uruk-hai and Rohirrim alike. Darkness had taken them all while the fight lasted.

Aragorn found himself waiting for the dawn. It seemed an eternity in the arriving after long, wretched hours battling in the night. Visions of gleaming eyes and teeth of abominable Uruks surging forward with rage and death in their hideous faces sent his adrenaline pumping once more. Energy roared again through his weary limbs. It was time to return to the battle.

The terrible scenes of this night were burning themselves into his memory. As he moved quickly down the stone steps, sweet words rang in his ears over the clamour of swords clashing and cries of war.

_If faint hope is all we have to fight for, then it is indeed enough._

He stumbled as he ran when he realised whose voice permeated his mind with hopeful thoughts: Arwen Evenstar. It seemed it was her voice. A brief flash of her elvish face came to him. He gripped Andúril's hilt even tighter now after being reminded of the hopes and dreams he fought for. Middle-earth needed the strength of Men in the dark times to battle against the Dark Lord for it was no longer the age of the Elves. The weight was being passed to their race's shoulders as the war for dominance raged across the lands. If this skirmish was lost, hope would dwindle into a distant dream that some would even forget. The fate of Men rested in Aragorn the Heir of Isildur's hands.

Andúril gleamed with deadly light as it cut through the lines of Saruman's evil forces. Aragorn felt their hate as if it were a living thing moving among the men, but their brashness diminished by the fear of the Blade of Elendil that of which no armour or weapon withstood. Its path was clear. A flash of light flared when the renowned blade struck a helm, then made a path by two Uruk-hai who stood to Aragorn's shoulder.

After what felt a lifetime, Aragorn and his men had to retreat. Aragorn rushed to the tower where Théoden abided at that moment of battle. He was staring out the window at the bloody skirmishing, turning his head only after Aragorn spoke. After a moment of conversing with the aged king, Aragorn saw that despair was again seeping into his heart, so he spoke words of encouragement to lift his spirits. They would ride in one last charge to meet the swarming hoards of wicked armies, yet the time was not yet come. Aragorn took leave of the king and was met by Legolas, his companion, who clasped his shoulder in a firm grip that the Uruk-hai had felt all too often that night.

"The battle goes ill, my friend, for the wizardry of Saruman is too great a force for these ancient stone walls," he said.

Aragorn nodded and they began walking side-by-side along the wall in quick strides. "Without such this battle would have been more determinable perhaps. Let us hope the sun rises on a still-unrelenting fortress not won by the dark tide."

A ladder crashed against the battlements as shadowed figures in glinting black armour hastened up the rungs to mount the wall. Aragorn leaped down to the place where the Rohirrim struggled to push the ladder down, though it was heavy, and ran his sword into the first Uruk that appeared and removed the head from the next. He rallied the men about with his fierce cries of defiance against the large Uruk-hai and the heartening moved along the wall for many yards where the enemy was thickest. Andúril came down with a flash upon two more in a brief instant and suddenly they became aware of the burning blade and its mighty wielder. They were hesitant to approach it, yet their comrades continued to climb the ladder without knowledge of the death awaiting them.

The same happened all along the wall as Aragorn rushed over its length several times to aid in the casting down of the furious enemy with his staid companion Legolas following close. The dawn was only moments away at last when the turn of the battle would finally brighten to new hope. Erkenbrand arrived with Gandalf shining brilliantly in the rising light to bring the last stroke against Saruman's forces. It was enough to break their lines but not to utterly rout them for it was the duty of another ally to do so unforeseen but quite welcome. All the telling of this tale are told in the account of the War of the Ring and need not be mentioned in this part of its length.

* * *

The shadow was a roiling, shifting mass in the Eastern sky. Darkness had covered all of the South, East, and West for the past six days. The North had escaped most of it.

Arwen drew back the sheer curtains away from the openings to the outside from her private quarters. A chill wind blew at her dark hair and garments which were also of dark shades. The ebony sleeves billowed out behind her as the dark blue skirts swirled about her slender feet. She half-lidded her shining eyes to keep the wind from them.

She felt fear grip her heart in its clutch at the sight of evil shadows clinging to the sky all about Middle-earth for the struggle seethed. Fingers of dark reached out from their derivation in the midst of that great mass. Arwen shuddered even though Imladris was a place of refuge, shedding all the light it could give upon all around it. The Elves could not comfort as they once did or aid in the storm. They could only watch and shelter those in desperate need. The companies leaving Rivendell to the Grey Havens were becoming more frequent.

Arwen could see that Elrond wished for her to go among them to sail away, yet she refused adamantly. There was no way in Valinor or on Middle-earth she would leave when Aragorn's love drew her to him. When she closed her eyes, listened to the wind it was almost as though she could feel his limitless care for her over all the distance between them. In those moments there _was_ no gap.

She closed the draperies. The gloom she did not need to see; it had touched her heart enough already. The emerald green vines wrapping around the pillar beside her stirred in the breeze that still breathed through the curtains. Her hand brushed against a leaf of its length as she glided past feeling its vibrant life flowing as blood. Such things still thrived in the valley of Rivendell.

"I shall see you again, 2. meldanya," she murmured as a tear slid down her flawless cheek. "Not even this darkness can separate us. Not even." She trembled suddenly and could not stop it. Her desire to have him at her side grew too strong for her to remain still or calm.

"Eru! Do not let this be the end!" She remembered all the moments with her beloved and how short-lived they were. There had been little time for them even in all those years and so there love had blossomed in full. Arwen clutched her skirts to keep her hands steady. "Have mercy upon us all! Spare us the wickedness that would fall upon Middle-earth if Sauron was not destroyed. He must be slain!"

She collapsed upon a divan of rich blue and ornately carved wood before her legs gave way beneath her weight. If she could have listened she would have heard a voice void of sound resonating about her, yet it only registered as a stirring in her heart.

"Do not fear, my child. Take comfort in my strength for you shall not see the end. All shall not come to darkness yet."

Arwen curled her body, wrapping her arms around herself like the vines she now gazed at. A gentle wave coursed through her as though she was a plucked harp-string. Despair turned into peace; grief changed to harmony.

"Forgive me, Ilúvatar," she whispered, her words caught up by the wind. "It was wrong of me to doubt your hand guiding the events of this place."

She sat up straight and watched the soft draperies stir in the same breeze.

* * *

In the next few days, Arwen felt the strain of importance for in the Southwest and East battles were being fought for the freedom of all Peoples of Middle-earth: Elves, Men, Dwarves, and Hobbits alike.

On the thirteenth day from the first of unnatural shadow shading the heavens, the Evenstar strode briskly down the halls until she began running.

"Father!" she called once he came into view. He was gazing to the East intently. In other cases, she would not have disturbed him, yet today she had good reasons. "Father, you have seen it?"

Elrond, a lord among Elves and Men, did not move from where he stood. He spoke softly. "Yes, oft of late, my daughter. Today the fate of Middle-earth rests in the hands of a small hobbit. If he fails, we all fail."

Breathing heavily and with flushed cheeks, Arwen came to stand beside him and watch. The breath of the wind did not stir. The birds of the air did not sing. All was in a state of anticipation and anxiety of what would come to pass in the next few moments of time. When Elrond glanced over at his beloved daughter he saw her as a statue of grace and beauty, garments or hair not even stirring. Then her fingers moved. Elrond saw that she was fingering the ring upon her left hand: the Ring of Barahir given to her by Aragorn as a symbol of their love and his return; although, Elrond had foreseen that Arwen would be the one to return. The ancient relic of the First Age glinted in the dim light as she slid it up and down her long finger or spun it over and over again.

They did not speak to each other. They did not wrench away their eyes from the boiling in the Eastern sky.

Without warning, the mass began to tremble, quake, and move as a living thing. It churned and became a great shape in the high heavens where all could see. Death, evil, torment, and devastation all commenced in that massive cloud. Arwen began to feel a spring of joy well up inside of her as the cloud suddenly receded and the blue-grey of the sky could be seen once again.

Arwen embraced her father briefly and felt the mirth abundant. Elrond's face lighted with a smile.

"It is over at last," he breathed, wonder mingled in joy in his grey eyes. They shone now with a new light of confirmed hope.

"I know," she said also smiling. "The Shadow has been conquered. Praise be to Ilúvatar!" She laughed and clasped her hands at her waist. The time had finally come.

Elrond realised what the vanquish really meant: freedom from Sauron's iron fist, but also the departing of Elves, diminishing of their kingdoms, and the dreadful parting of which he could not bear to think of. He looked upon his kindred's face that was spilling over with a deeper happiness than ever before and a grief took hold of his heart. The joy shining in his eyes turned to despair. He could not enjoy it any longer.

* * *

Aragorn's heart pounded in his chest. Before him stood a makeshift throne, three great banners flying in the wind above. The largest was a White Tree upon a field of black, the Winged Crown and Seven stars glittering in the soft sunlight above the tree. This was the standard that had not been seen in hundreds of years. There were some who still marvelled at it, yet wondered more at the man who brought it before him, the Heir to the Throne of Men. His shadowy hair framed a face that used to be worn by the years of harsh journeys, but they were wiped away now that peace had returned to all of Middle-earth and he was to take up his right to the Crown of Gondor. His eyes, as he walked toward the high seat, shone as stars in the heavens while his gliding movements were as an Elf. All the people gathered there stared with awe for they remembered his bravery and wisdom in battle; especially the moment when he and the Mouth of Sauron caught each other's gazes only to struggle until the enemy recoiled as if struck physically. Aragorn's might was too great for him to match by himself. Sauron himself had been threatened by it in the palantír. In their time of need, the Ranger of the North had come.

There was only one thing Aragorn thought was lacking for the celebration: the presence of Arwen Undómiel. He had hoped to share these blissful moments with her though he knew he would not see her for a while until the time came.

He came to the high seat and ran his fingers along the arm rests. This was minuscule compared to the mighty throne that sat in the great hall in the Tower of Ecthelion. He would soon find himself there.

Gandalf walked to his side. "They are here. I fear they have little strength remaining, but their little hearts are strong. It is time you exercised your true power of healing for they need it now more than anyone before. Come." Gandalf's white robes glistened in the light as he moved away. Aragorn walked at his side newly clothed after the wearying brevity of the defeat of Sauron. It was mostly the tension and worry that had drained all the men for there had been little fighting. The memory of the great cloud of darkness raising up into the heavens and fading away along with the order of the dark armies—who were now fleeing into the mountains to hide from the wrath of the Captains of the West—played itself over again in his mind. All sound had faded at that momentous event when the world's fate was finally decided.

Aragorn pushed away anymore thoughts once he and Gandalf came to a place surrounded by fragrant trees of Ithilien and cool grass carpeted the earth. Two small forms lay limp on pallets, wrapped in soft blankets. His heart was rent for the faces were hardly recognisable from their innocence, jovial spirit, and cheeriness of heart long months ago. Two small hobbits, forgotten in the tumbling of fate, but now raised up above Men of that age.

"Dear Frodo," he murmured when he pressed a warm hand against the shaken hobbit's cheek. His eyes were deep pools of pity and sadness knowing what his dear friend had been through. He no longer had round, rosy cheeks. They had sunken and become wan while his body had also lost too much weight. His dark curls had gotten mussed in the turmoil of his struggles as did poor Sam's who lay near him with the same look of repose on his sleeping face.

Aragorn then put his other hand on the cheek of Sam. "And loyal Sam," he said with a gentle smile. "You had hope when even Frodo had given in." He heard Gandalf's garments rustle behind him.

"They have toiled through fire and the depths of shadow, my friend. It is a wonder they still live for there is but a spark of life enduring deep inside." He also smiled faintly. "Perian are much stronger than most Men have believed."

"Indeed." Aragorn felt the faint strain of life within each hobbit. He closed his eyes and began to call up all of his power and strength in healing for a process that would take some time. Time...he had plenty now.

Gandalf had left Aragorn to his work. It was some hours later when he returned. Aragorn still was helping his dear companions. He had life shining in his eyes and as Gandalf looked closer at the Heir to the Throne's hands, a faint glow appeared. To average eyes nothing would be out of the ordinary, yet the Istari had eyes for the unnatural.

Aragorn paid no heed to the aged Wizard's presence for he was immersed fully in his work. Gandalf saw that Aragorn would stay strong throughout the entire length of the healing no matter how long it might take. He dared not disturb him. A smile touched his lips when he saw the change beginning in Frodo and Sam.

"Yes, send for them. Lord Aragorn has..." Gandalf stopped speaking when he caught sight of Aragorn treading slowly from the direction of the grove where Frodo and Sam rested. His face was weary and his eyes ready to close for he had not slept in days. The past night he had spent with the hobbits.

"Lord Aragorn, sit!" said Gandalf going to him. "You must rest now that everyone else has."

"The hobbits shall have peace at last," Aragorn whispered. "There are still signs of their tribulations of their journey through Mordor, yet it has lessened upon their hearts and minds. They also have need of much rest."

Gandalf smiled as he shifted the position of his staff. "Go and rest."

Aragorn nodded and went to a tent that had been set up for him. Two men whom he passed watched with awe at the tall, noble figure that moved silently over the earth. They hurriedly bowed low for their King.

* * *

_1. Shadow is covering the North, darkness is governor within the East, gloom is stretched over the West and South. How long will light govern or Sauron remain bound? _(do not ask why on earth I wrote this whole thing in Elvish...:D)

2._my beloved_


	23. Journey to Minas Tirith

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yay!!! A very special scene is coming up!! But in the next ch. In the mean time I hope you all enjoy this prelude to this very special moment that I spent a lot of time on. I think all of you know of what I speak :)...Thank you so much Natulcien!! It is great to have you reading my story :). I hope to write other stories but I am planning on writing an actual book to publish (or a few) that is along the same line as Tolkien's style, and school is about to start again :P. I will try my best! I have actually already started writing a story about Eldarion, Aragorn's son, from the point of view of the maiden he ends up marrying. We will see...Enjoy ch. 23!!

In the last few days of Víressë—April—Elrond came to Arwen. She had anticipated this for many days...ever since the vanquishing of Sauron, the Dark Lord. Her father's face was lined with grief for his heart ached to know that it was time to fulfil his word to Aragorn who now was about to step up to the throne. Arwen's eyes had shone more brightly as they did whenever Aragorn was in Rivendell ever since that glorious day. It had not only sealed the fate of Middle-earth but her own as well for the good.

"Beloved daughter, you know why I am here."

"Yes," she said facing him, "I do."

He looked down at the ground. "We shall be departing for Minas Tirith in a few days. Of course...our company will be halting in Lothlórien since Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn are to come with us."

Arwen felt no smile come for she also felt the grief of parting from her kin. How bittersweet was mortality for her; to leave her beloved father for the beloved of her heart. To never see her kindred's face evermore after their mournful parting.

"Never more than memory," she said in low tones.

Elrond looked up. "You said something?"

Arwen met his gaze intently. Her eyes glistened, not with moisture, yet with their own inborn light.

"How selfish have I been!" Elrond cried rushing to take her hands.

"Selfish?"

"Not only for you did I make my presumptions. I thought for myself as well. I did not wish to part from you forever even if it meant you taking the course of your own will. I still do not...although...now I see fate has you woven in its design more intricately than my mind conceived. Forgive me for what I have done to you!"

"There is nothing to forgive," said Arwen. "Your reasons were understood. I might have done the same for one does not easily wish for their child to leave them forever."

Elrond glanced down at their clasped hands and nodded. There was no turning back now, yet he felt angry with himself for the words that had come from his own lips.

"Now that that is settled..." Arwen released his grip and strode to the ledge. They stood on a covered bridge of light stone crossing a sparkling spring that tumbled over the silvery rocks.

"Father...remember I still love you."

* * *

On the first day of Lótessë, Arwen, Elrond, and a great company of Elves set out from Rivendell for Minas Tirith. Before they left, Arwen found the old hobbit Bilbo writing on a stone bench surrounded by sweet flowers and lush trees. Living things had begun to grow in the past month when the healing rains began to fall upon the earth.

"Dear Bilbo, will you not go with us?" she asked softly.

He looked up from his work. "Ah! I am too old for such a long journey. I shall take only one last in my life and this, I fear, is not it." He smiled. "But it would be grand to accompany all your splendid people and see Aragorn...being King and all."

Arwen nodded her head, allowing a dark lock of hair to fall forward. She reached out a pale hand to grasp Bilbo's old, wrinkled one. His shining blue eyes gazed up at her wonderingly.

"Farewell, friend. We shall not meet again. I go to my destiny. Namárië."

Bilbo had no heart to bid her farewell in return, but grinned as warmly as he was able. Arwen walked away after taking a deep breath. Her destiny indeed awaited her for now she left behind all that she had known in the past years.

* * *

Galadriel, Lady of Light, clasped Elrond's hands and then Arwen's. Celeborn and she had welcomed them as soon as they were in Caras Galadhon. They had not seen Elrond in many years—last being the meetings of the White Council before.

"Celeborn...Galadriel. It is pleasant to speak with you once again," said Elrond.

"Yes, we greatly welcome you back to Lothlórien. It has been many long years, has it not?" said Celeborn.

"Indeed. I should have come sooner when there was more time. Lórien has always been a second home to me...and my daughter." He glanced at Arwen who now smiled softly.

"We have tried," said Galadriel whose eyes sparkled enchantingly in the light about them. Her hair was a shimmering river of gold edged in silver. It had been said in all the years that her long, waving hair reflected light of the Two Trees that once shone brightly in Valinor. Now that they were gone their light remained only in the Silmarils and the Lady of Light's beautiful tresses. When she stood beside the Evenstar, they were as evening and morning; starlight in one whilst sunlight was in the other. Elrond and Celeborn both observed this in one glance. "Our people shall be ready in only a few days. There is not much to prepare for, yet I believe you and those who came with you should rest a day or more."

"And imprint upon our memories of this land's fairness," Arwen said gazing around them. "Beauty, love, and light have all gone into it, bringing a brief taste of Eldamar across the Sea. How I shall miss it when all of your kindred have left it." Elrond noted the way she said _your_ instead of _our_. "The memory shall live on for many ages of this world though only in that form."

All of them silently agreed feeling her words nestle in their minds. Galadriel spoke after a few moments of quiet. "Undómiel, remember Lórien when all else has faded. Remember the lands of the Elves after we have departed Middle-earth. These lands shall not be forsaken completely then."

"I shall not let them," she said. "Nor will I forget so easily that which I love so dearly. Minas Tirith has mighty stone walls and towers, yet never will it be so fair as the greenery of Lothlórien and Imladris." She pulled her cloak closer about her shoulders, and lifted the hood from her face. The light about them shimmered on a face as fair as glittering starlight.

Soon they found themselves feasting on light bread, rich wine, sweet fruits, and honeycomb. Lembas was now being stored in packs for their journey to Minas Tirith as well as the return to their beloved land that they would have to leave in little time. Arwen grabbed a cluster of purple grapes from the bowl. As soon as she picked one to place it in her mouth, memories of many years past flowed before her vision of the morning her and Aragorn sat watching the sunrise not far from where she now sat. The burst of sweetness in her mouth as her teeth sunk into the grape's flesh brought back the smells and tastes of that precious moment in time. A tremble of her heart brought her to reality once more after reliving a day that was stored away in a dear corner of her mind.

_I have always favoured the sunset in the West,_ she heard his voice say from that bright morning. _As have I_, she thought. _It shall not be long, meldanya. The Shadow is conquered, has fled, and now nothing can keep us apart. No longer. _

Elrond was watching her as she ate little that evening. He knew where her mind wandered as the others laughed and spoke together celebrating the defeat of Sauron who had plagued them so many long years. He tried to understand her undying love by bringing up thoughts of his lost love Celebrían, the daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel. He felt a thrill rush through him knowing they would be reunited in short time. Her beautiful face filled his vision. He took a sip of wine and cleared his mind.

* * *

The escort of Arwen—that had enlarged with people of the Golden Wood—made ready to depart on the sixth day since they had arrived. It was a fair company, fairer than any that had walked in Middle-earth since the awakening of the Elves before Men even breathed. Arwen had been greeted with blessings from her kindred the whole length of their brief stay for all knew the fate their Evenstar had chosen. Their lips curved into smiles while their eyes were wells of grief. It was a path few had the heart to tread.

She went to her horse to find it already prepared for the long journey into the lands of Men. She thought of how Aragorn would have been crowned days ago and making decisions at present. She took a deep intake of cool air flowing through the Elven-kingdom.

Elrond approached her. "It is time." He drew a deep breath. "King Elessar awaits us in Gondor and we are expected also in Edoras."

"Elladan and Elrohir are there then?" she asked mounting.

He also mounted. "Yes, they have sent a message saying they will meet us and escort us there when we cross the borders of Calenardhon."

Arwen rode forward alongside him to the head of the large company. Galadriel and Celeborn were already waiting there. With the moving forward of the Lord and Lady of Lórien, Lord of Rivendell, and the Evenstar of all the people, the great company began their journey. The lush grass bent under the trod of the horses then sprang back from their light step. The air was permeated with scent of the aftermath of rain lingering from the night. Water clung to leaves, dripping onto the ground already moist and muddy. There was also a faint mist moving through the trees as if alive, stretching its arms to the open waters. The fair escort was riding along the banks of the Celebdil for they would not ride in boats because of their numbers. The waters had risen because of the rains of spring so the shore had lessened. Dirt had churned into thick mud and some of the horses had to pull free of it when they neared the embankment.

Arwen bid farewell to all the land as she passed it by. The golden leaves mingled in an array of colour with yellow blossoms upon the boughs of the mellyrn. Not long after, the golden shower faded and the land became aged and weathered once more for they had crossed the borders of the Golden Wood. The youthful ether of the elven-lands fled but remained in the Elves that walked there.

* * *

On the forty-fourth day of their long journey, the escort of Arwen was met by two Elves who created a stir. Arwen was gazing ahead as they rode in the lands of Rohan, where the Rohirrim ruled, and two horses of those people came pounding across the grass. She caught sight of them leagues away because of her elven-sight and the fact that the land was mostly flat with some rolling hills. Even from that distance, Arwen recognised the two figures on horseback.

"They have come," said Elrond. Galadriel turned her head to see for she had been speaking in low tones to Celeborn.

Not much longer did they wait. Elladan and Elrohir were greeted warmly.

"Aiya, 1. yonyar," said Elrond.

"2. Atarmma, you have come earlier than expected. We were to meet you on the borders in our minds," said Elladan.

Elrohir nodded. "Yes, this is well for," he glanced at Arwen, "all of us may come swiftly to the Stone City."

Arwen smiled. "Destiny awaits us."

"To our grief." Elladan's face no longer shone with merriment, nor did Elrohir's.

"And to hope for Middle-earth," said Galadriel interrupting for Arwen's case. The Evenstar nodded to her gratefully. "Things must take their course as was planned by Ilúvatar and the Valar. Do not turn to despair, but to love and assurance, for Sauron is destroyed forever! All the Free Folk are truly free now and the King that has returned shall bring peace for many long years even unto his death. With him, his Queen shall also heal the lands. Their descendants will keep the legacy far into the ages. Hope oft is found in grief."

"Forgive me for despairing, my lady," said Elladan. "The Evenstar is my beloved sister whom I love dearly and I mourn the loss of such a dear spirit."

"We are not parted yet! Together we shall make merry and enjoy each moment anew for some time yet. Let us forget our grievances!" Arwen cut in.

Elrond agreed heartily and began moving forward first as the rest followed. Elladan and Elrohir spoke of Edoras where they would rest for a day or two.

"It is a quaint yet warm place," said Elrohir. "Meduseld is a mighty hall where there can be felt long years of Men in the ground, walls, pillars, and roof above. There is much rebuilding to do for some places have become feeble after some neglect that began in the time of Sauron. Otherwise, it is comforting."

"As is expected from what I have heard of the Rohirrim. Are the people still there?" said Arwen.

Elladan answered this time. "Yes. There are some who journeyed to Minas Tirith when they heard of the King's return and to see his crowning that occurred many days ago. Most have remained here to bask in the glory of liberty from fear or whether or not they are going to be attacked. It is a new feeling to them all." He smiled. "They were even more shocked to see Elrohir and me when we arrived. The only ones who had seen an Elf previously caught a glimpse of Legolas of Mirkwood while he was with Mithrandir and Aragorn."

"They shall have such a sight as never before," said Elrohir.

The escort reached Edoras, the capital city of all Rohan. The gold roof of Meduseld glittered in the sunlight and the banner of their people—a white horse running on a green field—waved proudly in the warm wind from the South.

Once they came into the city, many people appeared in windows, doorways, and to the sides of the roads once word spread of the fairest of companies that had come. Wide eyes of children peered around corners while open mouths hung on grown men and women.

Arwen watched from the shade of her hood pulled forward. A slight grin crept up for she took joy in seeing the bright faces of the young. Someday there would be children of her own, yet not for some years. She could feel their innocent gazes piercing her cloaked form, wondering who the hidden figure was. Many of the men and women watched her as well. They knew she was of great importance since she was at the head of the large company alongside Master Elrond who was a lord of Men and Elves. Elrond had bid her cover her face at their arrival.

"I fear there is none of high power to welcome us," said Elrohir as they entered the Golden Hall.

"They are all in Minas Tirith with...King Elessar," said Celeborn.

"Ah, but we must have someone to greet our guests!" cried a voice. A tall, blond man of middle-age strode towards them on long legs. He bore marks of a high captain. He bowed low with a fist over his heart. "Welcome to Edoras Fair Folk of the North. You are most appreciated though King Éomer nor his sister Éowyn could be here. They bid me remain here to do what they could not."

"Then we are grateful to you," replied Lady Galadriel. The man's eyes brightened as he gazed upon her face of wondrous beauty and his hands fingered the helm he held.

Arwen studied the length of the great hall and felt a strange sensation within like a thrilled whisper or a chill wind. Aragorn had most assuredly stood where she did now.

The man occasionally glanced in her direction; he was obviously curious of her identity. "You have many with you," he said wrenching his gaze away to face Elrond, "so most of your fair company will have to make an encampment outside the city. I was told you would not be here long. Is this true?"

"Yes," said Elrond.

"Two days would be sufficient," Celeborn said quietly. Galadriel rested her hand lightly on his arm in consent.

The Rohirrim man nodded and bowed once again. Arwen walked towards the throne at the end of the hall. The man had the Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, Glorfindel, and Erestor shown to rooms they had prepared. Elrond remained there with his daughter and the Rohirrim captain. The mortal was standing in the awkward silence still fidgeting with his helm.

"If it is permitted," he began, "it would...quench my strong curiosity as to who...the cloaked maiden is. Is she...an Elf?"

Elrond did not answer for a long moment. He watched Arwen move about the throne. "Arwen Undómiel is my beloved daughter who is Half-elven as myself; though she has chosen a different path."

"A different path?"

Elrond sighed. "She is to wed King Elessar in Gondor."

The Rohirrim man could not hide his shock. His head swung to the side instantly when Elrond's words sunk in. He lifted a hand to his head in confusion. When he looked back, Elrond was gone for he had gone to Arwen's side.

"My daughter, why do you linger here?"

Arwen shook her head. "I do not know. Estel stood here not long ago. It is almost as if...I could feel his presence." She drew a deep breath. "Maybe it is only the yearning of my heart."

"Perhaps." Elrond gently lifted away the hood of her grey cloak. Glistening tears tarried in her bright eyes and he grasped her hands in a warm gesture of comfort; yet they were tears of joy, not of despair.

"My time has come at last," she whispered. "My love shall be whole soon. I have never felt so gladdened...not even when the Shadow was destroyed."

Elrond smiled and touched her cheek. "Then I shall also be joyous."

The Mortal Man still stood there gazing at a scene of love and elegance between close kin. He hardly was able to think normally after seeing the wondrous beauty of the Elf-maiden. His mortal eyes had never seen such wonder in any child of Ilúvatar. Arwen felt his eyes upon her. She turned her head to see him.

"The world has changed. Prepare for what is coming. It has been absent in most lands for hundreds—even thousands—of years. Peace," she said. "Peace has come."

* * *

Arwen's escort had left Edoras some days ago and now were coming to the White City. They would reach its gates at eve. It was a cool day in Middle-earth and Arwen found herself being coddled by three elf-maidens and Galadriel herself. She was standing aside speaking to the Evenstar.

"There is nothing more splendid than the Evenstar in white garb," said Galadriel with a shining smile. There was love showing in her face that was usually inexpressive.

"And her close companion of Lothlórien," Arwen added after lifting her arms for the Elves to fix the sleeves of her gown. They stood in a tent drawn up for this single purpose: to prepare Arwen Undómiel for her marriage.

Her eyes sparkled and she gazed down at her attire. A shimmering gown formed over her with flowing sleeves and skirts that also trailed a short distance behind. Glittering white gems were placed in her hair and on her pale brow.

"Here," said Galadriel lifting a silver phial encrusted with small sapphires. She removed the top and raised it to her nose. "This is a fragrance precious among the Elves. It is worn often in unions."

Arwen took it to take of its scent. "It is...niphredil blossoms." She handed it back.

"Yes, their petals crushed and mingled with water. This phial I concocted specially for the water is of the fountain in Lórien where light of Eärendil rests. Keep it well for it shall be the last of its make in only a short time."

"Should you not keep it? It is yours," said Arwen.

Galadriel smiled faintly. "Think of it as my gift to you before our parting."

"Then I thank you deeply for, not only this, but for everything you have given unto me: your counsel, your friendship, and your love. You have been as a mother to me and have given me guidance when it was needed."

"As I strove to do," said Galadriel.

* * *

_1. my sons_

_2.our father_


	24. Long Awaited Years

AUTHOR'S NOTE: PLEASE READ THIS FIRST PART!! All right...I know you all want to read this part extremely bad but I would appreciate it if you read this first. Please do not expect a spectacular, dazzling reunion that lasts the whole ch.!! The part I wrote is short and sweet and after reading it I realised if I wrote any more it would seriously ruin the rest of it. I felt I was treading sacred ground or something :D. Natulcien: Yeah, you know writers tend to draw things out for suspense :) so the wait is over at last!! And this is only the beginning....kaylz: hmm...I think your idea is best realised by you and you would be the perfect one to write it. I also have this weird thing that I must stick to Tolkien's writing and I have tried my best to do this in Eternity. I am very flattered though that you would offer me ideas of yours to write :). Thank you very much!! Valia-Elf: yes, lots of fluff!! finally!! Everyone enjoy ch. 24!!

* * *

The stars bloomed in the heavens, bright and radiant like never before, yet a golden haze lingered on the horizon. The air was fresh and cool stirring with a gentle breeze. 

The King Elessar had been brought word that a fair company was approaching from the North of which he had waited as soon as he had fond the sapling of the White Tree. He watched now as they arrived at the gates—what was remaining—and his heart was filled to bursting. His joy overwhelmed him as those who saw him could feel his incredible elation spreading all around for this was the moment he had passed through darkness, trials, death, and long years patient to live for. To be crowned King of Gondor and Arnor was his highest goal yet only because it was the last fulfilment to allow his heart's desire to be made real.

Elladan and Elrohir were first to reach the greeting party standing on the open grass before the gates. They each met Aragorn's gaze and smiled with the knowledge of who came afore them. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn were also there with shining faces sitting before a great company of their kindred of Lothlórien.

Aragorn greeted them with fair spoken words, yet his mind was elsewhere as many of them knew. He paused when the mounted Elves, faces glimmering beneath the stars, drew aside as two horses moved past them, one a grey palfrey that he recognised at once. Some of the Elves bowed their heads as the two rode through.

Aragorn felt he could no longer speak or breathe and his heart pounded noisily in his chest. A sight more fair than all the glittering stars above or the lush earth below rendered him silent and unmoving.

Master Elrond had ridden forward with a long object obscured in his hands and face proud for the one who stood before him; yet the King's gaze lingered briefly upon the mighty lord for it was his companion, who had also come forward, that drew his gaze...and his breath.

Arwen Undómiel, Evenstar of the Elves and Lady of Rivendell, sat upon her silvery-grey horse shining like a star and more stunning than nay that flickered in the sapphire heavens. Clear gems glittered on her brow and she was clothed in brilliant white that formed about her like a mantle of glory.

* * *

Arwen had glimpsed her beloved from the rear of the company standing tall and mighty, but now as she drew up before him she truly saw him as he was. He appeared then as he was when they had come together in Lórien long years ago when he was fully come to manhood; now he again seemed a high Elf-lord among the mortals who stood behind him, face bright in the twilight as the last glow of the sun faded. He wore a circlet of silver on his noble brow but one only needed to look upon his face and his kingly bearing to know what he was. 

Those around her thought her even more beautiful for love and joy emitted from her like the rays of the sun. Elrond glanced at his daughter before dismounting. She followed yet realised she was overcome with emotion as never before. Tears of abounding joy glistened in her eyes though none fell.

Aragorn finally turned his gaze upon Elrond in warm greeting. The Elf-lord lifted what he held in his hands to him, all seeing at lat what it was: the sceptre of Annúminas. The King took it aloft as his eyes ran over its length in mingled satisfaction and awe.

"I told you long ago that you alone would bear this if you were crowned King of Gondor," said Elrond, his grey eyes searching King Elessar's. "Now it has come to pass and my word has been fulfilled."

Aragorn was going to thank him but Elrond continued.

"And there is something more I promised to you," he said more softly. He turned to his daughter still gazing upon the King and grasped her pale hand, drawing her forward. He also took Aragorn's hand and placed hers in his. "This word I have also fulfilled."

Arwen could only gaze into her beloved's bright eyes with love pouring forth from her heart. There were no words to speak. After so many years hoping to catch a glimpse of the other, spend a quiet moment together, or know each was well where they abided though they must be parted it all seemed a dream to be standing side-by-side prepared to never part again. Aragorn squeezed her hand lovingly and she knew everything was well again for the world had faded away and nothing else could touch her.

Elrond felt as though his daughter was already parted from him, but he smiled softly at the wonder in her eyes. A light seemed to emit from the reunited pair as the large company passed through the gates and up the paths of the levelled city to finally come to the Court of the Fountain where the White Tree glistened in the starlight.

Many were present including all of the fair Elves, the Ringbearer and his companions, Gandalf the White, and other noble people for this was the moment to signal the beginning of a new age for Gondor and a new life for its King.

Aragorn could smell the sweet fragrance of Arwen so close to him and he held to her hand as though he would never release her ever again. She felt a yearning to fall into his arms, to be held close, yet it was not yet the time. Her heart beat quicker when they reached the steps of the Hall of Kings.

As the stars glittered above and the last rays of the sun fell away from the heavens, Aragorn and Arwen spoke their vows and completed the ceremony of union. All were merry and joyous for it was a moment that had been anticipated for years, yet none were more joyful than the King and his new Queen.

Aragorn gently brushed Arwen's pale cheek as a soft smile appeared on his lips. She was astonished when he drew her to him and bestowed a kiss upon her that she would never forget, so full of rapturous love and joy abundant at the blessed night.

* * *

It was three days after the glorious and awaited union. Arwen Undómiel awoke beside her husband. He was still sleeping after getting to bed quite late the night before. The duties of a king rested heavily on his shoulders in these days for it was his responsibility to restore peace and healing in all the lands of Men. Arwen leaned over to kiss his brow. 

Aragorn slowly awakened then and opened his eyes. A slight smile passed over his face when he saw Arwen watching him.

"You never do rest for long," he murmured.

"Neither do you...in terms of mortals."

He sat up and leaned forward on his elbows with fist under chin. Arwen laid a hand on his neck, fingering his hair. "We are leaving in nine days after Éomer arrives," he said. "Do you wish to journey with me the entire length or remain in Edoras till I return?"

"I shall wait for you there."

Aragorn nodded. He grasped her hand and gently kissed it. "It will be a long day this day."

She smiled. "Then you had best prepare for it."

Aragorn rose from the bed to pull on a shirt. The rising sun streamed through the windows after Arwen drew back the drapes.

"Anything particular you must do this day?" she asked.

Aragorn shook his head. "Only guiding and ruling the people. They truly need it. My messengers shall be moving along the roadways of Middle-earth soon. When we return here after escorting Theoden's body and the dear hobbits...they will go then." He moved to stand in front of a window and gaze out at the mighty city. The white stone glimmered in the morning light: towers, battlements, and high walls of Minas Tirith. From down below the people could look up to see the White Tower like a "spike of pearl and silver", as Frodo had described it, shining as it ever did in Gondor.

Arwen clothed herself in garments of pale yellow sheen with a girdle of gold leaves. Aragorn and she left their quarters together arm-in-arm with Arwen leaning against his shoulder. She sighed thinking of all the long years she yearned to feel him near her or to speak with him, yet everything would be well now.

"Estel," she said.

"Yes?"

"Have I strayed into a dream that I do not wish to wake from?"

Aragorn smiled and they stopped in the halls beneath a lighted window. Golden halos of light crowned their heads. He placed his hands with thumbs on her cheeks and fingers around her pointed ears. "Breathe the fresh air, feel the sunlight's embrace, and...my eternal love for you. If this is a dream, then all of life is a dream, death being the waking. I am thrilled not to wake from it for all has come to a completion I hoped for the entire length of this dream."

"Let us hope then that the dream continues on unto eternity," Arwen said placing her hands over his. She kissed him sweetly as they basked in the golden light.

* * *

They were still awaiting Éomer's return to Minas Tirith including the four hobbits, Legolas the Elf, Gimli the Dwarf, and Gandalf who often could be found in the presence of the King and his Queen. When Arwen saw Legolas for the first time since she had wed Aragorn, she hastened to him with a shining smile.

"Legolas! It has been long!"

He grinned, his blue eyes glimmering, and he clasped her hands firmly. "Indeed it has, Arwen. Too long." He searched her eyes. "It makes me glad that all your dreams and wishes have been fulfilled."

"And what of your dreams, my friend?"

"They have been fulfilled and more. For a time I thought all hope was void as we faced the utter darkness there at the Black Gates. You know...in that moment Aragorn brought to me a realisation: no matter the obstacle, or darkness, hope can bring us courage unforeseen or shine a light in what we believe was indestructible blackness. As he stood beside me, tall and might not stirring or quailing before the wicked hoards, I felt a bit of his boldness enter my heart. With him leading us...no amount of shadow could prevail."

Arwen could not help but smile and grasp her friend's hand. "Thank you. It grants me great pleasure to hear of my beloved's deeds while we were parted and to hear of the encouragement he has spread."

Legolas nodded and was comforted by her gladness. His smile returned. "There are some of my companions you should meet. Aragorn has taken great joy being among them and you have only tasted the merriment of their hearts," he said.

The elegant Elf led her down the halls of the Tower of Ecthelion into a parlour where the scent of pipeweed wafted through the arched doorway. Curls of silvery smoke floated in the air of the room, and she saw all four Halflings of the Fellowship puffing on their pipes as they conversed casually in their high voices.

"Do you really think so?" Merry mused. "I rather thought..." He cut off abruptly when Pippin's eyes grew quite large. They all turned to see who had entered and were quite astonished to find the mirthful elvish bowman and the fair Elven Queen standing just inside the parlour.

"Goodness me!" said Merry leaping to his feet with the others. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Arwen felt laughter arise in her until it was quenched at the sight of dear Frodo Baggins standing with a less surprised expression. Aragorn had healed him and brought him back to full health, yet his bright blue eyes were no longer so jovial and innocent. There was pain in their depths from the suffering of his long-born burden of great weight to body and spirit. The lines of his face also bore the troubles of his Quest as he watched with a gentle, quiet demeanour. Their gazes met for an instant, she seeing his scars, he seeing her compassionate understanding.

"My Lady Arwen," said Frodo with a slight bow.

She nodded to him as well as the other three. "Good day to you all," she said softly.

Legolas smiled. "My friends! Please sit! We are only here to enjoy your pleasurable company."

The hobbits did sit, if slowly, and gazed in awe upon the lovely maiden who sat among them with their old friend.

"It's quite strange being 'round such noble folk," said Samwise. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

"Nor with all these grand towers and halls," said Merry.

Pippin chortled and addressed Arwen. "We're very honoured to have you visit with us since we're only humble hobbits who speak of pipeweed and our meals."

"Such simplicity is comforting to one who has not heard any such conversation in all my years," said Arwen.

"And to one who has not heard enough!" Legolas smiled.

"Then we are pleased!" said Merry. "I've thought of what we might all be doing if none of this had happened. It was rather a strange thought, as I've said before. We'd all be a lot shorter on knowledge of the world, I say!" He did not have to explain what he meant by 'this'.

"Who would've thought we'd have done so much?" said Sam. "Seen Elves, fought Orcs, and...well...seen all these great events."

_And saved Middle-earth from multiple enemies and threats,_ Arwen added in her own thoughts. They never did quite accept the fact that all the lands of Middle-earth would have fallen to shadow if not for their sudden bravery and hobbit endurance.

"You have taken part in the wondrous tale of the War of the Ring," she said out loud, studying each of them in turn. "Not even the wise could have guessed four Halflings would play such an important role. I am glad to sit among you admirable hobbits who have endured more than most Men."

Pippin blushed slightly, Sam looked down at his large feet chagrined, Merry cleared his throat as his eyes wandered to anywhere but her eyes, yet Frodo only smiled a soft smile and looked to his companions. He understood but was too humble to mention it or boast of his feats.

Legolas nodded slowly. "It grieves me most sorely to know we shall all be parted, the Fellowship of ours, and never all be together again. I have had much joy in your company."

They continued to speak together for a time longer of things less weighty. Legolas and Arwen said little for the hobbits were content to tell them of many things of the Shire so far away in the North.

"I cannot imagine what it must be like now," said Pippin with a thrill of excitement edging his clear voice.

Merry shrugged. "Most likely the same ol' Shire we left what seems so long ago. I wonder how they're holding up without us..."

The others laughed and Sam looked thoughtful through his grin. "My ol' gaffer is got to be worried sick by now; being Outside with Big People and all. I can't imagine how he's doing while I'm gone." He could not help but remember the images he had seen in Galadriel's mirror some time ago. They still were engraved in his memory as if from a terrible nightmare. "I hope all's well," he murmured.

"I am quite sure it is, dear Sam," said Frodo smiling. "We hobbits don't give in so easily or get bewildered without good cause."

Once the discussion had lasted for an hour or so Arwen felt she had to leave them for there was a pull on her heart, so she bid them a good day and was accompanied by Legolas who was going to search for Gimli who had disappeared earlier that day. The two were gone and the hobbits were silent for a long moment.

Pippin puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. "She reminds me of Lady Galadriel somewhat, don't you think?"

"And Gandalf and Elrond," said Merry shifting where he sat in the oversized chair.

"To think we'll be able to tell our children about all the noble folk we've met!" Sam said with a new light shining in his brown eyes.

* * *

Arwen entered Merethrond, the Great Hall of Feasts, on the King's arm. Éomer had arrived with the fairest of his men of the Rohirrim in Minas Tirith and he sat at the King's left hand that warm evening. His eyes roamed about the great hall with wide-eyed wonder at all the fair guests. The Elves were all present, shining with their elvish countenances, Aragorn and Arwen sat at the table's head in resplendent glory, and the four hobbits took their places there as well. They caught almost as many stares as the King and Queen of Gondor.

Elrond sat at Arwen's side while Galadriel sat across from him. Gandalf, Elrohir, Elladan, Éomer, Faramir, Éowyn, Glorfindel, Erestor, Legolas, and Gimli all sat nearest Arwen and Aragorn. There had not been such a gathering for many ages in Middle-earth. The Elves mingled with Men. Mortal and Immortal were allied once again by the union of Aragorn and Arwen.

Before they sat, Arwen was formally introduced to Éomer, son of Éomund, who held her in awe, capturing the memory of her grace and beauty in his heart.

"You are a very fortunate man, Aragorn...ah!...King Elessar," said Éomer with a bright smile.

Aragorn grinned and they each clasped the other's shoulder in warm friendship. The kingdoms of Men were united once again by a bond of love and friendship, not only an oath to serve.

* * *

Do not worry!! This is most assuredly not the end!! It is only the beginning :)...but I hope the story has not become too long for you all.


	25. Renewal

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I truly hope everyone enjoyed the reunion of A&A. I had hoped it would turn out well. Now that they are together there can be lots of fluff!! I am not sure how many more chap. there will be, but I hope it is not too long...Thank you again all who are reading this (especially those who are reviewing :))!! It is a pleasure knowing you are all enjoying the story so much. Enjoy ch. 25!!

Arwen donned on travelling garments and her silvery cloak for the journey to Edoras. Aragorn joined her outside the White Tower where many Elves waited. Their shifting cloaks shimmered in the soft sunlight gilded in puffy, white clouds. Those with hoods drawn back had hair that glimmered when they turned their heads and eyes shining stars like deep pools of water. At their head stood Galadriel and Celeborn speaking to Elrond and his two sons. The four hobbits rode their ponies close behind the King who wore a white cape and the glittering Elfstone, the green gem given him by the Lady Galadriel who had been instructed to give it him from Arwen.

Aragorn, Éomer, Éowyn, Faramir, Merry, the Rohirrim, and Arwen had escorted the body of Théoden, son of Thengel, from inside the Tower. Sombre silence fell through the ranks of Men and Elves. The entire city of Minas Tirith seemed to have a reverent quiet to its white streets in honour of those who had given their lives for the greater freedom of Middle-earth.

The mood was carried on for the next few days though the dear Periannath could not push away their inborn cheeriness and light hearts. Merry was the only one that seemed gouged by the dismal yet fair procession moving across the plains and past the mountains. Arwen had seen the way he glanced at the shrouded figure of cold death the Rohan men carried.

Arwen watched her beloved from the corner of her eye. He had changed so quickly from Ranger of the North to King of Gondor and Arnor—not to mention all of Men—and had slipped into place as if he had been taken out originally only to be returned later. Arwen smiled softly and patted her white mare's neck. She gazed more intently ahead when a hill loomed up in the lush plains covered in wood and stone buildings while the largest glittered in the sunlight. It was the hall of Meduseld.

Théoden's golden bier was carried in to Edoras while its people lined the streets to pay respect to their past king whose name had earned a high place in their histories. Men, along with women, wept for the son of Thengel and many did not pay heed to the shining Elves escorting his body for they lowered their heads in honour.

Aragorn dismounted at Meduseld's golden doors along with the high elven-lords and Arwen. He turned to help her dismount, finding her already down beside him. He smiled softly and offered his arm to her...which she took gladly.

The funeral of Théoden son of Thengel touched hearts and livened the memory of the honourable man in their minds. The last tears were shed and wiped away; the last grieving spent.

Now the greatest feast that had taken place in the Golden Hall was begun. Éomer was made king of all Rohan and Arwen heard Aragorn slowly exhale in relief when Faramir and Éowyn announced their betrothal. She had seen the gaze of Éowyn and known that she had once loved Aragorn. At first it had set a different impression of the golden haired woman, yet Arwen had forgiven knowing how tempting it would be to just love Estel. She also sighed with relief as she caught the true love shining in Éowyn's eyes when she met Faramir's gaze. At last the fair Lady of Rohan had found her place and one who would return her love.

Glittering torches lined the walls setting a warm light to the hall decorated in rich reds, browns, and greens. Gold gilt work flowed up the pillars and across the roof matching the golden rooftop for which the hall of Edoras was named: Meduseld. Colourful depictions of the Rohirrims' history covered the walls on the woven tapestries and banners.

Aragorn and Éomer laughed mirthfully in each other's company and found comfort in the other's friendship. Arwen knew the tightly bound alliance between Gondor and Rohan would last for many long years after they had passed, that their bloodlines would remain close for as long. War and circumstance had brought the two mighty men together as fate wove its pattern, so that through such they had become companions to last all of their long lives.

Wine was poured freely, bread was broken continually, and merry singing filled the hall as the Men of Rohan inquired of the Elves to honour them with songs of their kindred. In this, resplendent music danced about all who listened, bringing to life that which was traced with melodious, divine voices of the Fair Folk named rightly so by Men. The Golden Hall had never seen such beauty and light in all its time.

* * *

"Namárië, meldanya," Aragorn murmured as he bid farewell to Arwen where she stood at the doors of Meduseld. She graced him with a beautiful smile and did not bow her head as she had done at each leave-taking of theirs in all the years past when neither knew what the parting would bring. Such beauty she possessed always touched his spirit when he gazed into her eyes the colour of the morning mist or the sky at evening as the stars began to shine.

"Not farewell, my love," she answered with radiant countenance. "Only a short time shall you be gone. I shall see you not long from now."

Aragorn smiled and took her hand in his. "Then so be it. Farewell for a moment, Arwen." He bent to gently kiss her hand.

He mounted his horse, given him by Arwen herself, and rode at the head of the fair company. They would depart to their own ways at last and the Fellowship of the Ring was to be apart until the end of time for never would they all stand together once again unless it be after the end of the earth. Aragorn rode among his beloved companions with the elven-lords and ladies close behind. Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli son of Glóin shared the same horse Arod and Gandalf the White rode his glorious steed Shadowfax, lord of horses. The proud horse stepped lightly and its glossy coat shimmered in the sunlight as its rider sat erect and silent.

Aragorn signalled their start and looked over his shoulder one last time to see his fair Queen gazing upon him with shining eyes and face. His snow-white cape glimmered as he heeled his horse forward through the streets with the rest following close after. Arwen watched until they had all departed Meduseld's steps and were scarcely seen moving down the hill of Edoras. She turned to enter unto the Golden Hall once again only to find Éowyn there as well.

"Good day to you, my lady," she said curtsying. Her eyes were full of curiosity.

"And to you," Arwen answered graciously.

Éowyn met her gaze confidently. "Their departing is difficult, I am sure."

"Only for a fleeting moment for there is but a bare time which they shall be gone from here."

The other woman nodded, but her eyes still held Arwen's. There was a measuring glitter in their grey depths. Her golden hair glimmered as she turned her head to look out upon the lands from that high place. "Often have I wished to see you, the Evenstar of the Elves who sacrificed their gifts to be with a Mortal Man." She hesitantly looked again to Arwen. "I suppose I shall never quite understand how."

Arwen wondered at the woman's boldness. "Yet you understand something of it, I think." Her own piercing gaze bore into Éowyn and she saw her lift her head.

"Now...yes," she said softly. "I believe I do."

"Come then. Let us speak together and not recall what has passed." Arwen had no need to say outrightly what she meant for Éowyn was a perceiving woman.

"Yes. That would be well for us."

* * *

In the brief time Aragorn was not present, Arwen was greeted warmly by those in Meduseld. Some even came to the doors to inquire of the Queen of Gondor and to catch a glimpse of the renowned, fair maiden. Éomer, Éowyn, and Faramir all took joy in her presence as all four usually sat together in the hall. Éowyn especially had a great respect for the maiden who had put aside immortality for a man, the same man she had once loved. Many were beginning to hear of it from someone or other and all watched her with awed faces.

Aragorn returned then with far less companions than before and Arwen grieved briefly to see that her father had gone. They had spoken together privately one last time and her tears could not be repressed at that last moment. All had been spoken that was needed and all was done as well.

He entered the hall, his brow unadorned as before and the Elessar grasping and reflecting all the light in that place. Green specks danced across his throat and white cape.

"Glad we are to see you again," called Éomer rising to his feet. He had been sitting on the raised chair on the dais.

"And glad am I to arrive once more," he answered slowing his brisk step once he saw Arwen standing in one of the doorways. "As always, my friend. Bitter was our parting in our Fellowship and I have need to see those who remain here with me."

Arwen strode to his side and smoothed her draping, lavendar skirts. "Bitter was the parting of my kindred knowing that I shall never see them again. Long years will pass but they shall never cross my path."

Aragorn's eyes were full of understanding and he touched her cheek. "Yet those long years shall not be passed alone."

Éomer had become silent, and he gazed at the stone beneath his feet for a moment as he awaited them. "What do you intend to do now that the rule of Men is yours, Lord Elessar?"

Aragorn's eyes alighted, burning with an intent fire. "I intend to set things aright. My messengers will move along the roads again. Lands will be given or added to. All the Enemy's work will be washed away in Middle-earth no matter where it is. The lands in the East will take much time to mend, yet some day things will grow and life will return. There is a King again in Gondor."

* * *

Aragorn and Arwen returned to Minas Tirith after a few days in Edoras. They were welcomed heartily by their people and joy sprung up in even the darkest of places. Light shone in all of Minas Tirith as it never had before.

Aragorn at once began rebuilding the City of Kings to resemble its past glory and to go beyond it. The War had taken its toll on the city: the gates had been utterly destroyed—so they were removed from the wall—the fires of the enemy had burnt stone and all that had been out in the streets, and walls had been shattered or felled to the ground. The city had been diminishing through the Third Age even before the War of the Ring had come upon them, so abandoned dwellings were cleansed and built up once again so that men could return to the City of Kings after long years of toil. The banner of the King flew over the White Tower of Ecthelion, proudly fluttering in the cool breeze as its city below was slowly restored.

Celebrating continued in Men's hearts though they returned to somewhat normal lives better than before now that things were changing for the better. Perhaps they were not quite normal for in days past they had always prepared for battle when they awoke knowing Mordor was on their doorstep and looked despairingly to the East. Now they looked joyfully to the White Tower gleaming as white crystal seeing that the East was no longer so dark. The King had come again to restore beauty and light to the lands. Many were content with the fact that their children would see days of peace and the rule of a King after hundreds of generations had gazed upon an empty throne.

Faramir, now the Steward to the King, and Éowyn were recently come to their new abode Emyn Arnen for Faramir was set as Prince of Ithilien. Imrahil returned to Dol Amroth after his long time spent with King Elessar while Èomer began his rule in Rohan which was one of the only lands not ruled by the King in Middle-earth.

Gimli son of Glóin had brought many of his kin to the Caves of Aglarond—of which he had at once become enamoured with in the time of the War of the Ring—to dwell in. Once they came there work had begun on a special gift for the new King Elessar Telcontar of Gondor that would aid the city though there was no long much threat upon Minas Tirith. Soon it would be ready.

* * *

Arwen found Aragorn speaking to an assemblage of Dwarves led by Gimli son of Glóin. They had arrived the day before and planned on remaining for a time in the fair City of Kings. There were also Elves of Mirkwood that were come with Legolas, friend of Aragorn and member of the Fellowship of the Ring. Aragorn was discussing the putting in place of the great stone doors they had brought. Minas Tirith had never seen such grand gates with such detail in all its years. The Elves were present to make a request of the new King of the West. They had looked upon the Queen with sad gazes mingled with joyful smiles for, by the tale of Beren and Lúthien, they knew love was the most powerful of beings in all of Ea ; it severed differences and tore kin apart.

Aragorn did not even have to turn round to see his wedded Queen. His voice slowed and he smiled. The Dwarves had not yet seen or met the Queen of Gondor. They looked in her direction when Aragorn turned to meet Arwen's glimmering gaze. There were some few quiet gasps.

Aragorn, noble King beyond compare, lifted a hand towards Arwen palm-upwards. She glided forward, slipping her pale hand into his. Their eyes never left the other's as the Dwarves bowed their heads in solemn reverence. Arwen nodded to each of them in turn as Aragorn introduced them.

"...and Gimli son of Glóin who is a dear friend of mine," he said smiling broadly. "You will wish to know the whereabouts of Legolas, yes?"

Gimli's chuckle rumbled and he stroked his braided beard. "Ah yes! I had heard he was here with some of his kin as am I. I shall go to him once we are finished!" Through him was the friendship between Elves and Dwarves restored and the rift laid over by a bridge of love and forgiveness.

Gimli again looked upon Arwen Undómiel with eyes full of wonder. "Again I have glimpsed a star come down from the heavens at twilight to grace us with her presence."

Arwen laughed gently. "And fair are the words of Gimli, and generous is his heart. Thank you, young Dwarf, and may your fortunes soar. Already you have done more than your need. The Elves are grateful for your repairing of our lost alliance. Much thanks is due to you and Legolas Greenleaf."

Gimli bowed low. "Such praise from you is worth more than all the gems of the mountains."

Aragorn clasped the Dwarf's shoulder. "Go then to your friend, good Dwarf." He looked to the others with shining eyes. "And take what rest you can, my friends, in this fair city."

They bid him farewell and departed for the noon meal. Arwen laced her fingers through Aragorn's and smiled brightly.

"Fairest by far is the star that steps down from heaven than the one that falls," whispered Aragorn near her delicately pointed ear.

"And greatest is the King who cares and lusts not after power," she said in return. "I have known of many who do not."

Aragorn laughed lightly and walked with her down the great hall. They revelled in the silence arm-in-arm not having to speak audibly to converse. The mighty Kings of old looked down upon a descendant of theirs who indeed would, and already had, become mightier than they and like unto the mighty Men of the First and Second Age: Bëor the Old, Beren Erchamion, Túrin Turambar, Tuor of Gondolin, Elros first King of Númenor, and Elendil the Tall who saved the White Tree Nimloth and began the great kingdoms of Men in Middle-earth.

They soon found themselves in the Court of the Fountain near the edge looking out over the land shining in the sunlight. There were men down near the gate opening preparing to raise up the new gift of the Dwarves.

"The Elves will wish an audience with you today," said Arwen.

"I know." He looked into her large grey eyes. "Do you ever grieve to see your fair kindred...your lost kin?"

Arwen answered without hesitation. "Nay, my love. I would have made no other choice no matter how many times I went back. My heart belongs to you alone, and I wish for nothing more than you here with me."

Aragorn never had any doubts, yet his mind was smoothed and his being filled to overflowing with a warm light bursting through ever fibre of his heart and spirit.


	26. Lingering War

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finally!! Sorry everyone! I meant to put this up sooner but I have been busy during the weekend. I do have a life besides writing :). lindahoyland: thank you very much for your lovely reviews. I am glad to read them and know what you like specifically :). luv24Alias: yes, you will get more!! I am very glad you like the story so much. Valia-Elf: thank you :). Always happy to write fluff and all things beautiful. viviana: thanks a bunch! I am glad you are enjoying it :). Ahh!! So many people!! Enjoy ch. 26!

Aragorn did meet with the Elves who had come to Minas Tirith later that day. Legolas was among them. They all stood fair and proud with shining faces, so different from the mortals they passed in the streets, and long hair glistening golden, shadowy, or pale in the sun falling upon the lands of Gondor in shimmering shafts. They were with the new King in the presence of the White Tree glimmering pale and crystal droplets of water falling from the low branches where the fountain touched the white petals.

Legolas stood before his former companion. "You honour us with your presence, noble King of the West," he said bowing low with a hand on his breast. The others did the same with admiration and awe in their eyes.

Aragorn reached out his hands to them. "Please! Please stand my friends," he said with a grateful smile. "You should not have to bow to me."

Another of the Elves spoke in his melodious voice and stepped forward. "Yet we wish to honour you as we can for you are the mightiest of all Men in this age. Your are an Elf-friend like those of old."

"You faced the darkness and struck where it was greatest. With this mighty blow, it was destroyed. It takes astonishing courage to do what you did," said another with golden hair and brilliant blue eyes. "Even as it is accounted among the Elves. We are leaving these lands more rapidly each day, and so you are given Middle-earth's care."

"And I shall keep it well for the sake of your people and those who remain here, but most of all for those who will come after us," said Aragorn.

The Elves smiled and knew that Elessar Telcontar was more kingly than all those before him. Legolas clasped his friend's forearm with shining eyes of blue.

"We also have a gift to give to the King of Gondor and Arnor," he said. "Your city is fair, and yet we bring the beauty of our lands to yours for even greater it will be with trees of the wood and green things of the valleys. The gardens of Minas Tirith were once renowned for cities of Men, though now," he motioned to the Elessar glimmering green upon Aragorn's breast, "it shall have a blessing of the Elves and become more lush and beautiful than ever before so that it will rival even the wild forests."

Aragorn looked down into the six levels below and was content. "The thanks of all the people and myself I give to you. It is a priceless gift. What can I give in return to such friends of Gondor?"

The Elf who had spoken after Legolas spoke again. "Only to grant us leave to make our dwellings for some of our Elven-kindred in Ithilien where the Shadow of the Enemy could not fully destroy. It will be made clean and beautiful as it once was."

"Then I shall gladly grant you this," said Aragorn. "It would be a glorious thing to have Elves return to this land. You are most welcome."

1. "Anar kuluva tielyanna," said the Elf, "ar eleni calaor ostolla."

2. "Ar or lieolla," Aragorn said bowing slightly.

* * *

Legolas and the Elves began to plant trees in all the places they could in Minas Tirith the following day. Aragorn was sometimes among them. The people rejoiced to see Fair Folk in their proud, white walls. The Elves sang softly as they put the seeds or saplings in the brown earth.

The Dwarves aided in the placement of the new gates along with strong men of Gondor. The city was buzzing with excitement and busy with labour for all were working to restore the city after the great battle that had ended the Third Age. Stone was rebuilt with as much skill as in the Elder Days, walls replaced, and large banners of Gondor flown high against the brilliant blue sky. Common men and women found their King among them clothed only slightly different with the White Tree and Seven Stars emblazoned on his breast and nothing upon his head. Everyone who was able aided in the rebuilding and refurbishing of Minas Tirith.

Aragorn was exceedingly busy in all this time, as it is seen, yet there was no lack in his time spent with his new and glorious Queen. No passion was stronger for they had endured such trials of their love like no other since Beren and Lúthien so long ago.

When Aragorn was finished commanding the masons of the city, Arwen came to him where he stood beside a young tree sapling planted by the hands of Legolas himself. He was lightly fingering the Elessar that was pinned upon his breast, catching and reflecting the sunlight falling in golden beams upon the gleaming city.

She drew up beside him and a soft smile appeared on his lips.

"It is good to know that both Legolas and Gimli will be so near. I already wish that the dear hobbits would not have gone," he said.

Arwen laid her hand in his. "Some you shall see again but not Frodo. He will soon pass over the Sea with our beloved Mithrandir and...others we have cherished." She no longer spoke of her father after their last parting in Edoras where her heart had been torn in two. Aragorn knew not to broach the subject and not for some time or until she spoke of her burden. He had seen his beloved weep only once, and it had been enough to rent his spirit and churn his stomach for he could not bear to see her broken or suffering.

Aragorn drew her to him as he saw the pain in the depths of her grey eyes. "Do not despair, beloved, for all shadow has passed and perhaps there will be some end Ilúvatar has yet to reveal to us where the ones we have lost will reunite with us once again after passing to a place we cannot go. There are many Elves I would wish to see, yet I have parted forever from them."

Arwen lifted her head to look into his eyes. "As long as I have you...all will be well."

* * *

Now, Sauron had been defeated along with many of his wicked hordes, yet not all who were allied with him were destroyed or rooted out. There were also evil things that had not been united with the Dark Lord still concealed in Middle-earth. Many corrupt creatures were slain while wicked Men plotted secretly to gain Gondor once again and to defy the new King that had arisen.

King Elessar knew of all that was happening, so he called the counsellors to him to discuss the matter. When he looked around at them, he recalled such meetings he had had with his companions: dear Gandalf who was now gone, Legolas who was among his woodland kin again, Gimli who was with his people also in Erebor, and Éomer who was now king of Rohan. He missed their insight somewhat as he stood among the wise of Minas Tirith. There were not many of them, yet he felt crowded by their presence.

"You may already know why we are here," he said. "I have called you here to discuss the scheming of wicked Men in the far East and South. Not all of our enemies were destroyed in the War of the Ring. You might even say it is still continuing for it will take time to root out all evil in men's hearts."

"My lord," said a tall, lean man of grey hair, "you wish to attack the Men of Khand and Rhûn?"

"If they do not surrender to the King of Gondor, then they shall pay the price," said Aragorn in a voice that tolerated no argument. It was the same tone that the men had shuddered from in Helm's Deep as he stood upon the wall to watch the sun rise. "Men are weary of war—I know it for I too am weary—yet for peace to settle in all the lands of Men...we must strike our lingering enemies hidden away in the far lands. To gain peace is to gain it through war."

"Then let it be done!" cried another man who only had streaks of grey in his hair. Aragorn had been in his presence before and had found the man bold and gallant. He would be one that Aragorn listened to more closely perhaps than the others. His blue eyes burned with passion. "We will follow our King wherever he may lead us whether it be to more war or to the ends of the earth!"

Aragorn smiled slightly and nodded. "Send emissaries to King Éomer for he will not wish to miss this chance to draw his sword once again. We shall need all of the aid we can gain."

* * *

King Éomer sat on the throne in Meduseld waiting for the messenger of Gondor that had been sighted to arrive in the great hall where little time ago councils and debates had taken place with noble folk of the highest and after these many of the Fair Folk had walked and feasted. He recalled King Elessar sitting at meat at his side, his eyes bright and his bearing proud. The thought of his staid companion in kingship and battle brought a soft smile to his lips: the messenger was most assuredly bearing word from him.

The man was admitted, and Èomer rose to his feet. The man of Gondor bowed low before approaching the king with a letter in hand.

"The King Elessar bids you well, King of the Mark! Yet he brings urgent word also."

"Thank you," said Èomer grasping the message. "You are welcome to abide here tonight if you wish and take rest from your journey."

"Thank you, my lord, I shall."

As the messenger was led away to staying quarters, he broke the seal to swiftly read the strong, flowing script. As he did so, a smile crept upon his lips and his eyes began to shine.

"So it has not completely ended..."

* * *

The messenger of the King Elessar carried a reply at his belt as he urged his horse forward over the Fields of Pelennor and to the gates of Minas Tirith. He went into the city making his way swiftly to the seventh level where he passed the Court of the Fountain and finally to the Hall of Kings where the King sat upon the high throne.

"My lord, King Èomer sends word." He knelt before his King.

Aragorn stood to receive it then gave the man leave to go, yet thought better of it. "Wait," he said holding up a hand, "for I may have word for you to carry, thought not to Èomer." He read he letter as the man waited eagerly to hear the reply. The King nodded slowly and looked up from the message. "You must bear word to the hosts of Gondor..."

* * *

Word spread through Minas Tirith of the King's decision. They were to bring war upon those who still opposed the Men of the West. Sauron was destroyed forever, yet the seed of his malice had taken root in many lands and in many hearts; particularly those who had served him before such as the men of Khand. The Easterlings had surrendered to King Elessar after seeing him command the dead and sweep away the evil hordes on the Fields of the Pelennor to shift the battle, and peace was sought between Gondor and the people of Harad. So the opposing forces had been greatly lessened thought the enemy was still many.

Rohan's enemies, or threats, were practically none. The Dunlendings realised heir their mistake of attacking the horse lords and were willing to have peace among them. The Wild Men were not wholly peaceful, yet they had been utterly defeated never again to trouble Middle-earth.

Èomer gathered his riders of Edoras, Helm's Deep, Snowbourn, and other villages to ride to Gondor before the entire host set out on a journey into the barren lands in the East beyond Mordor.

When they arrived in Minas Tirith, King Elessar greeted his friend with a shining smile.

"Èomer! How good it is to see you again! Even under the circumstances..."

"Yes, my friend, but I understand your reasons and that is why I am here. Did you think I would pass the chance to draw my sword with the King of Gondor?" His eyes lighted with a smile.

Aragorn's laugh was rich and deep. "I am honoured to have you at my side once again, Èomer. My heart has never been so light."

The Riders of Rohan abided in Minas Tirith for two days only as the armies of the city joined them. The meeting was as brothers reuniting as men clasped arms and greeted each other with raucous shouts of joy. The two forces mingled together as one and waited with thrilled anticipation as the time drew near to set out for the far lands of Khand where the Variags sat in evil brooding. They had been present in the Battle of the Fields of Pelennor and had not surrendered as the Easterlings had done.

Faramir arrived in those days after receiving a message from Aragorn for he would rule the city during the King's absence. Aragorn and Èomer were waiting for him in the Hall of Kings.

"Prince Faramir!" King Elessar called. "Join us, my friend!"

Three mighty men of great wisdom and valour stood together in that grand hall. Golden light poured in through the windows upon them and their eyes glittered like mithril under starlight.

The following day the councils were concluded and the great company of Rohirrim and Gondorians set out with their kings at the head. There was a rumble of hooves and feet moving swiftly over the lands to challenge those who opposed the King and his allies. Banners of the white horse on green and the White Tree on black rippled in the wind as they were carried on the journey.

Faramir had been left in Minas Tirith, but there also was the Queen for Aragorn did not wish her to accompany them to battle. She had wished to go, yet knew it was not her place. She would wait for her beloved to return safely.

* * *

Andúril glittered with a silver sheen as it was drawn forth. Aragorn's eyes blazed as he rode forward with his men close behind. They had come upon a city of Khand without warning and the Variags fled at their wrath as they plunged into its streets. They were a stubborn people and none surrendered to the flying standard of the King of Gondor who swept through them in a burst of glory and wrath. Some quailed at the presence of the mighty men invading their city whether on foot or mounted on great beasts of war.

Aragorn himself found their leader and rode forward to meet him for he had slain a Rohirrim man to gain his horse. His eyes were red with fury as he saw his men cut down like wheat by gleaming swords and glinting spears, yet it grew the greater when he saw their Captain charging towards him. They met in a clash of steel and Aragorn threw the man from the beast to the earth where he landed on the hard ground with a great shout. He dismounted and slew him before he rose again. The city was taken without difficulty and few had been slain of his forces.

He found a man, his skin swarthy and his eyes like coal, who was cowering in an alley.

"Tell your people that if they do not surrender to the King of Gondor and Arnor...they will surely fall as your men have this night. Take word of your own account and be swift!"

The man trembled as he stood and ran with all his strength out of the city and on to the nearest dwelling place of his kin. Aragorn watched him go and drew a deep breath of the warm air. _It will not be long now...My heart will rejoice when I can return home..._

* * *

1. May the sun shine upon your path, and the may the stars shine on your city.

2. And on your people.


	27. Return and Journey to Lake Evendim

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I fear we are nearing the end! We are more than half-way through! It will be very difficult to write the last ch. and you all know why :'(. luv24Alias: do not worry!! Aragorn will come home safe and sound :). I decided that all they have been through was quite enough. lindahoyland: thank you for the correction :). I did not exactly edit the 1st half of that ch. since I was trying to get it up quickly. thanks always for your reviews! Everyone enjoy ch. 27!!

Arwen found Faramir standing at the base of the White Tree gazing upon its glimmering beauty. Pale blossoms had bloomed on its high branches and crystal droplets of the fountain glistened on the white bark. Faramir's eyes were brimming with reverence and joy.

"Lord Faramir..." she said approaching silently, "...it is well to see you again."

His bright eyes fell upon her in a different sort of reverence and he bowed low. "Lady Arwen, it is also well to see you." He again looked to the White Tree proud before him. "I never believed I would see this day. It was a wish that I never thought would be heard in all the reaches of the earth."

"But your plea was heard, Faramir," said Arwen, "along with the many others who were sore wrought by the darkness. Another age has begun and the people are merry."

"What of your people? They depart more quickly now that a new age has come though I have been blessed to have Elves of Eryn Lasgalen come to dwell in Ithilien where I am to rule."

"It is the Fourth Age and it is for Men to begin their sovereignty of Middle-earth as the Elves leave it in their hands; quite capable hands, I believe."

Faramir's raven hair stirred in the wind rushing through the mountains. "I grieve to see them depart so soon for they are a fair and wonderful people."

Arwen lowered her head and her grey eyes sparkled. "Indeed they are...and I shall miss them."

* * *

Arwen walked briskly through the halls, out into the open sun of morning, and stood at the great doors of the hall behind the Court of the Citadel. She had heard wondrous tidings that brought sudden relief and joy to her heart. Aragorn had returned.

Spears and helms glittered on the fields as the mighty company returned after two months of battling the enemy and travelling the hot lands of the far South. The Variags of Khand had been routed at last. There would be no trouble from them ever again.

The kings of both Gondor and Rohan entered unto the city through the gates of mithril, past the budding trees, and up unto the seventh level where they were eagerly awaited. Faramir had joined Arwen as the victorious lords passed through the gates and onto the Court of the Fountain in glorious splendour of battles won so far away. Arwen was glad to see her beloved well and rejoicing. She smiled and waited as he approached in long, smooth strides alongside his noble companion.

"Well met, my lords!" Faramir cried as he stepped down to meet them.

There was clasping of arms and warm greetings, yet Aragorn's eyes strayed past the Steward and the King of Rohan. He smiled slightly and climbed the steps himself to come to his Queen.

"Well met indeed," she smiled. She lifted a hand to gently touch his cheek. "Come and rest for you have made a long journey." She looked to Èomer and Faramir who now stood watching. "All of you."

They indeed were cleansed of the journey and battle and forsook their armour and swords which were left idle in their quarters. The word of their victory in the South spread throughout the lands of Gondor and there was to be a celebration in the coming days; although it would not surpass that which had occurred at the end of the Third Age.

Imrahil arrived in Minas Tirith soon after with his wife and daughter Lothíriel of Dol Amroth to join the celebration. They all gathered together the night of the rejoicing. None of them had yet met Lothíriel and were introduced. Her lovely blue eyes widened when she was greeted by Arwen Undómiel.

"I am indeed honoured to meet you at last," she said staring. "I have heard so many wondrous tales of you ever since you became Queen. Your beauty and wisdom is renowned throughout all the lands of Men."

Arwen smiled and thanked her, yet she realised someone else was staring but not at her. Èomer's eyes were intent upon the daughter of Imrahil like she had never seen before. Her smile was no longer only for the young woman.

Lothíriel smiled upon the others. Èowyn had also arrived after joining Imrahil's travelling company and stood with Faramir, her husband. Imrahil was beside his wife and King Elessar's arm was entwined with Arwen's. Èomer was the youngest and only man without a beloved. Lothíriel observed this immediately as she observed his handsome, noble face and proud bearing.

The feasting was about to begin and Aragorn led the way to the halls of Merethrond. Èomer offered an arm to Lothíriel with a slight smile.

"My lady, would you care to accompany me?"

"Of course," she murmured.

Arwen whispered near Aragorn's ear: "He shall no longer be alone in his kingship."

Aragorn nodded but did not glance over his shoulder at the two walking behind. "I am glad for it is another bond between the people of Gondor and of Rohan. Our kingdoms shall always be united whether by blood, oath, or friendship."

Lothíriel remained with Èomer the rest of the night laughing and smiling often with him. Imrahil saw this change in his daughter and was glad.

* * *

A month later on a night when the stars were shrouded by dark clouds threatening rain, Arwen had slipped into her nightclothes white like the skin of Nimloth and stood gazing out of the window in their bed chambers at the night sky. The land was shadowed and dark, yet Minas Tirith gleamed pale in the gloom. Down below flickering torches and lamps cast soft firelight upon the streets for those who still walked abroad though many were now in their homes and resting.

Her eyes went beyond the Rammas Echor and to the Sea so distant. She suddenly realised her sight had slowly changed for she had become as a mortal woman in some of her ways. She still saw further than most Men, yet not so far as the Elves. The thought of it brought to light the burden she had carried ever since she had made her choice many years ago in fair Lothlórien where her heart would ever dwell because of it. The weight of it was great and she lowered her gaze to the floor beneath her unshod feet. It was still not gone from her. _What must I do?_

Aragorn entered the bed chambers and paused when he saw Arwen so still and silent. He came to her at once.

"My love," he said gently laying a hand in her dark hair shimmering, "you are troubled by something."

The clouds parted then. She turned her head and the light reflected in her eyes sparkled with a shimmer like stars reflected in the pristine waters of Lórellin in Aman, the Blessed Land. Aragorn then shuddered when he saw the glistening tears that made them so bright.

"Estel...they are gone, yet my burden remains. Must I always carry it?" The tears broke loose and trickled down her porcelain cheeks.

Aragorn' eyes were full of compassion as he leaned down to kiss her cheek where the tears had fallen, clearing them away, then the other cheek. "My beloved, let it go tonight. There is no need to carry it so far. Let it go."

She looked into his eyes and felt the tears fall the more steadily when she saw his staggering love for her, not her beauty...just her. He stroked her cheek with his fingertips and again dispelled the crystal droplets with a gentle brush of his lips. The clouds began to dissipate as the night drew on and the rest of the night he kissed away the tears of bittersweet sorrow. Arwen's burden faded away as she was held in her beloved's arms, and its hold on her was released.

* * *

Fifteen years passed without worry or dissonance for King Elessar Telcontar had soon abolished all uprising among the men of Khand and Rhûn. They were defeated and utterly destroyed, and the orcs of Middle-earth eradicated. He and his Queen were overwhelmed with joy as their lives blossomed in love and peace. Minas Tirith had become more fair and mighty than even in its beginning when Elendil ruled. The lands of Men flourished and were blessed.

Aragorn had dealt with the Shire and his once companions who resided there but now wished to see them again with his own eyes and the lands of the North where he had once roamed as a Ranger. He mentioned it to Arwen who was elated by the idea of returning to the Northern lands for a time. They at once made ready to depart.

They planned to travel through the Gap of Rohan using the North-South Road that ran along the Enedwaith into Eriador and became the Andrath Greenway. Their company would then halt in Bree for a night and continue on to Fornost where they would turn to journey on to Lake Evendim.

And so the King of the West passed into Rohan with a fair company of knights of the city and Arwen Evenstar close at his side.

They moved swiftly over the green fields, past Edoras and Helm's Deep, and through the Gap where the Misty Mountains towered above them in snow-capped peaks to the sides. They had moved onto the North-South Road now as they journeyed over the silent lands of the Enedwaith. The men grew uneasy as they neared Dunland, yet Aragorn assured them that they would give no trouble after learning of the mercy and compassion of the people of Rohan and Gondor.

They halted in the plains of that land to rest from the long trek over Middle-earth. The stars were clear and bright and the moon cast a silvery light over the land, yet the wind did not stir. Tents were erected for the night's rest as men grew weary of waking; King Elessar and Queen Evenstar were given the largest tent with the White Tree glimmering on its ebony cloth surrounded by the Seven Stars. The Winged Crown shone in the starlight above the entrance.

Aragorn stood in the thick grass gazing out over the land with the fair Arwen at his side also silent.

"I know this land so well. I remember every path, every shortcut...everything; just as it is with all the other lands. I do not think I shall ever forget them."

Arwen looked out over the land as well. "No, you shall not. Just as you shall never forget your many journeys here and in so many other kingdoms."

"Yet I shall not dwell on them for they are of the past and it is no longer of great consequence to my life now even though they are the foundation of it." He looked now at his beloved. "We will soon come to the village of Bree. It will be truly pleasant to come there again after all these years."

"And I shall be glad to finally see it after hearing so much of it." She brushed a light kiss on his lips. "I must sleep now. You may remain here to watch the stars, if you wish." So Arwen went in unto the tent to rest.

Aragorn stood for a time longer watching the stars glitter so brightly as though they were laughing with joy as they looked down upon the King Elessar Telcontar no longer newly come unto his kingship. He was finally the Heir who had restored peace unto all Middle-earth and made the lands rich with green and fertility. He was the Heir to sway men's hearts to good, not wicked, and be admired and adored by all who looked upon his noble, proud face.

He at last returned to their tent. He pulled the flap back to enter silently and slipped his boots from his feet before going further. Arwen had left a single candle burning for him and he smiled at the thoughtful gesture even though his eyes were keen in the shadows. He blew it out and saw Arwen lying still upon the soft blankets given them to rest on with a serene countenance. Her chest hardly rose and fell as deep sleep took her into its grasp.

When he sat beside her, her dark lashes stirred against her smooth skin. Her dark tresses were spread on the plush pillow her head was upon, glistening as with starlight even in the dim interior of the tent. He reached out a hand to gently caress her pale cheek with a soft smile on his lips and then slipped her silken hair behind her delicately pointed ear away from her beautiful face where it had fallen.

"Sleep well, my love," he whispered as he bent to kiss her brow. She smelt of a fresh wind breathing through a field of flowers, a faint fragrance he had come to love after their years together.

He watched her for a brief moment longer before laying down beside her. He swiftly fell to sleep and together they walked hand-in-hand in their tranquil dreams in fair Lothlórien which had now been deserted.

* * *

And so the weeks drew on as they at last came to a place Aragorn cherished with memories that would never fade for much had happened in the village nestled in the lands of the North where the Dúnedain had roamed to protect them. They still did not know of the sacrifices made for them. Now they would look upon a man long absent who none now would recognise.

Bree rose up before them and all could see the western gate. They had arrived there at dawn when a faint blush of gold and rose grew in the East. The people of Bree were just rising and beginning their day not knowing the fair company approaching.

Aragorn rode at their head with a standard bearer close behind carrying the emblem of the White Tree, Seven Stars, and Winged Crown that fluttered in the wind as they rode to the village.

It seemed the man at the gates saw them and scrambled out of his watch building to dash into the streets. He cried out in utter amazement to the people outside of what he had seen. As the fair company of Gondorians neared Bree, people had begun to gather to see if what the gatekeeper had said was true, yet it was not difficult now to see the glittering armour, waving banner, and proud horses almost at the gates. The gatekeeper hurried back so he could greet them.

Aragorn had a presenter who rode forward with the man bearing the fair standard not seen in the Northern lands for thousands of years.

"The King Elessar Telcontar, King of Gondor and Arnor, Captain of the West, and bearer of the Sword of Elendil greets you, good man, and wishes to enter the noble village of Bree."

The man's knees were wavering and his voice trembled. "King of Gondor? Of...of course!" He stood aside to allow them to pass. "Please enter, my...my lords!"

Aragorn nodded to him but did not recognise him. He was young with wide brown eyes gaping in awe.

As they rode into the village, the people gasped and pointed. Never had they seen such fair apparel, high bearing, or gleaming armour. Many eyes were turned on the two who rode at the head: King Elessar and Queen Evenstar. Most had never even glimpsed an Elf, only heard of their beauty and extraordinary ways, yet now they looked upon Arwen Undómiel and saw all the splendour and wisdom of the Elves in her face. And when they looked upon Elessar Telcontar, they saw all the magnificence and glory of Númenor and the Men of the Ancient Days. No one recognised him as the wandering, rugged Ranger who had tread their streets and drank their ale cloaked and worn many years ago.

He halted his stallion beneath a weathered sign swaying in the light wind. It was the Prancing Pony.

"We shall stay here tonight," he said to Arwen who drew up beside him. She nodded. He dismounted and faced his men who knew his intentions. They also dismounted and waited as he lifted a hand to Arwen, who slipped hers into his, and stepped through the door.


	28. The Prancing Pony and Annuminas

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another ch. for my fave readers :)!! Valia-Elf: yes, homework is going to be a major setback once I get some :P. thanks for your lovely reviews!! Natulcien: wow! I hope carrying a comp. around is not too much trouble :D but it is flattering that you would wish to read this story so much. It will just get better as A&A's life together begins. Hmm...Eldarion is on the horizon...Enjoy ch. 28 everyone!!

The door closed behind Aragorn and Arwen and the scent of burning oil, wood, and cooking wafted into the entryway where they stood. They came to the writing desk where sunlight fell from the windows.

A short, balding man with an apron bustled out of a door and halted abruptly when he saw the tall, fair King, the beautiful, slender Queen, and the four knights in burnished armour who had also entered. His eyes grew quite large as he slowly stepped forward. This was the first time Aragorn had ever seen Barliman Butterbur move unhurriedly.

"Barliman! You look well," he said with a bright smile.

Barliman swallowed hard and wiped his hands on his soiled apron covering his round belly." My lord...you...know me?"

"Very well. I once sat at your tables and drank of your ale."

The hobbits had mentioned the once-Ranger Strider becoming King of the West, yet Barliman's thoughts were always crowded and his memory sluggish at times. Suddenly his face turned very pale and he gasped.

"Strider! They were saying you'd gone along and become King, but it went right out o' my head!" He looked somewhat abashed.

Aragorn's laugh was rich and clear. "Indeed! It has been long since I have heard the name as it has been long since I stayed at the Prancing Pony. Would you happen to have enough rooms for me and my men?"

"Of course! My mind's been a mite crowded these days with all that's happening. We've got plenty of rooms to spare. I'll have Nob show you right off. It's a great honour to have such noble folk even coming to my inn, you know." He rattled off some more and paused to look again at King Elessar. "Imagine that! I wouldn't have recognised you with all that fine apparel...and that fine lady at your side. Ah! Your pardon, my lady, I haven't been quite proper." He bowed as much as his round belly would allow and called for Nob. "I still can't believe it myself even looking straight at you Ol Strider with an Elf and a crown!" He wrung his hands. "I've been terrible thinking you were some ruffian of the Wild."

"Not at all, my friend. I was a rascally looking fellow, was I not?" He grinned.

They were shown their rooms before entering the common room. There had been very few there earlier, yet now many had come when they heard the King had come to the Pony to stay. Arwen had remained in the parlour where a warm fire burned bright, so Aragorn sat with his Men at the only empty table and even then more filled the room.

Nob and Barliman set tall mugs before them brimming with golden ale blessed by Gandalf himself years ago in the beginning of the War of the Ring. Aragorn felt strange re-entering that place where he had sat so many times before where no one noticed him unless he told a tale of past ages or sang a song forgotten by common Men. Now the people could only gaze in wonder at this mighty King who deigned to sit among them with a smile that lit the room as brightly as the sun.

Bree had had much trouble after Aragorn had left with the hobbits for it was not only Black Riders that had entered there since the Dúnedain were suddenly occupied. Ruffians, fear, and rumours had frightened the people and changed the village...although not for the good. Yet once Aragorn's messengers were sent along the Greenway, they rid the roads of brigands as well as in Bree whenever they came there. Aragorn was still protecting them even now when he dwelt so far away.

"Will that be all for you, my lord? Even with all the trouble our ale and food's as good as ever...as you'll remember it I suppose. You'll not drink a finer mug of ale in all the North." said Butterbur. The inn was busier than it had been for as long as he could remember and he was overwhelmed with joy at such great business.

"That is well for now, my friend. Thank you."

He nodded and rushed off in his usual flurry.

There had been soft murmurs of conversation as the people sipped their ale or smoked their pipes, yet all glanced frequently towards the table with the tall, grey-eyed men. When they heard Elessar's voice some of their memories recalled that voice, somewhat changed, from long ago from a rugged Ranger whom they avoided as they did ruffians.

After a moment the curious began to question them at last when they could hold it in no longer. They answered many questions of Gondor, the Southern lands, and the battles in the far lands of Rhûn and Khand. All were captured by the King's rich, ringing voice until the sun reached its peak in the sapphire heavens. Barliman came hurrying in.

"Now they've come from a long way and I expect they'll be wishing to rest now after you've questioned them to exhaustion," he said stepping close to their table.

"Ah, but I am not weary, old Butterbur!" laughed Aragorn as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs. "It enlivens me to be here again and tell of my city to these noble folk. It has been far too long." As he finished his words some of the men leaped to their feet as a slender form moved into the common room. Aragorn also rose and reached out a hand to Arwen who had decided to join him. "Come and sit with us."

One of the Gondorian soldiers offered his chair and was given another for himself by a man sitting nearby. She sat beside Aragorn and looked at all the wondering eyes gaping in astonishment.

"Nay, Butterbur, we are not yet weary," said Aragorn briefly laying a hand on her arm. Her apparel was a soft grey with silver patterns across the breast and down the front as well as a silver girdle of intricate make in a design the Elves had always favoured. Her eyes seemed like mithril glimmering in the warm light against the grey and silver of her fair apparel.

There was another stream of questions and even some jesting was had as more ale was served around. Arwen was brought a glass of red wine that Barliman kept for only the special occasions or guests. She watched as her beloved mingled with the common men and women in a way only a humble and noble king could accomplish, and she smiled softly as her eyes studied him as she had done often in the past years.

He had changed little in the time they had been together in Minas Tirith for he was of the blood of Númenor and would live many years more even. There were grey specks in his shadowy hair and his eyes were shining with an elven-wisdom gained over his many years, yet his face showed little of his true age but for the chiselled lines of his handsome features.

At last, after many had been fed the noon meal and men had come and gone, the men of Gondor wearied of the long inquiry and tales told there in the common room of the Prancing Pony. Many began to depart with warm farewells as they fell silent and Aragorn stood.

"Thank you all for your graciousness, curiosity, and hospitality. I fear we must go and rest now for tomorrow we depart."

* * *

Arwen gently ran her fingers along the arm of the wooden chair in her and Aragorn's room they had been given. Everything in the Inn was warm and comforting as it had been in Edoras where she had been for a brief time. There were no mighty halls or gilded furniture, yet the hearts of the people were noble and strong, and they put such things into their work.

Aragorn slipped off his outer layers and his belt. His eyes were shining and his lips seemed turned into the beginnings of a smile. Arwen turned to face him.

"This is a wonderful village, yet they are still recovering from difficult times. You aided their spirits much today." She paused. "We shall return after out stay at Lake Evendim?"

Aragorn seemed surprise at the question as he looked up. "Of course. I have quite enjoyed being here again. They do not know how much I appreciate their enduring ways and simple curiosity."

"I feel a warmth here that I did not expect," she said moving towards the bed. "It is unlike anywhere I have visited or dwelt yet I take pleasure in it. It reminds me of the dear Periannath; well, even without those of that people who dwell here."

"I much desire to see them again," he said. He looked out of the window before drawing the red curtains. Arwen was already beneath the blankets and gazing up at the ceiling with distant eyes. He lay beside her and she seemed to return when she laid her head against his chest.

"I am glad Frodo has gone. His pain was far too great to remain here."

"You knew, did you not, that he would have to depart these shores to have peace at last when he gave him your necklace?"

"Yes," she said softly. "It was there in his eyes and his face. I felt it. He is now at peace..."

* * *

After turning from Fornost, the company arrived at Lake Evendim where it had been restored to its past glory and made well for dwelling. Aragorn and Arwen intended to remain there for some time though not too long for Aragorn had need to return to Minas Tirith as its King.

Aragorn had made a ruling that no Man was to enter the Shire whether a king or a ruffian or a traveller. Even he did not intend to step foot over their borders because of the edict.

The dwelling of Annúminas by Lake Evendim was much alike in appearance of the places of Minas Tirith and Gondor but for the subtle differences of the colour of stone and such things. There were grand halls and welcoming parlours. There was a corridor housing many quarters for guests and verdant courtyards where life thrived. It had been restored from the toppling ruins as many forsaken structures of the Northern kingdom had been once a King returned to the Throne.

On the third day Aragorn and Arwen set out to come to the Brandywine Bridge where they would meet with their hobbit friends without crossing into the lands. It was a fair company of Gondorians and their King and Queen riding on choice horses—some even of Rohan—in fine apparel and gleaming armour. It would be a sight that the hobbits had never seen before. Many had heard of their coming and accompanied Samwise, Meriadoc, and Peregrin to see.

The Bridge came into sight at last and figures of small stature appeared on the other side stirring with excitement. Little hobbit children rushed into view as well from where they had been romping in innocent mirth to catch a sight of the King their mothers and fathers had spoken of.

Once they reached the bridge, Aragorn dismounted and saw those he had waited to see for so many years also dismounting from their shaggy ponies. A smile shining like the sun lit his noble face and he stepped forward.

"Aragorn!" Pippin cried at the same moment as Merry. They laughed and met him with Sam in the middle of the Bridge. There were warm embraces and tears of joy as members of the Fellowship reunited once again after being parted for many years.

Aragorn stepped back to look upon his companions. "It has been far too long, my friends. _Far_ too long." He clasped their hands and smiled. "Now we must speak together for I much desire to hear what has become of you all."

Sam turned round and a lovely hobbit lass slowly came to him as well as two others who came to Pippin and Merry's sides. Then Aragorn saw that there was a younger one who was the loveliest hobbit he had ever seen with golden hair and bright blue eyes. She was Elanor the Fair, daughter of Samwise and Rosie Gamgee.

Aragorn bowed before them. "I am glad to see your lives are full of peace and joy as they once were. May your houses and kin always be blessed as my own has been." He looked over them at the others gathered. "And all your lands and people."

Once they had spoken for a time together Aragorn invited the hobbits to come stay at Annúminas. They all exchanged glances and bright smiles lit their faces.

"Of course!" said Merry.

"It would be wonderful to hear what's happened in Gondor and Rohan since we've been away," said Pippin.

"I've often wondered how things have gone after so much happened," said Sam thinking aloud. "It's been in my dreams of late."

"Well wonder no more for I shall tell you everything once we arrive. Come! My heart is overwhelmed with a joy unspeakable to see you all again. It has brought wonderful memories to mind."

The hobbits mounted their ponies and rode at the King's side laughing and talking for they also had not spoken for a month or more. Aragorn felt as though he had stepped back in time to the months when the dear hobbits had abided in Minas Tirith before they departed for the Shire, yet Frodo was now gone and it was evident. It was as if there was a missing presence that they did not speak of.

Arwen smiled at the Periannath's light conversation and jesting, yet she looked again to Elanor who had glanced at her multiple instances as they journeyed to Lake Evendim. She was a hobbit only as tall as a man's waist, yet her large eyes were bright and wise in the ways of the small folk. She had been taught well by her father who had seen much of the world.

Suddenly Aragorn was beside her for he had dropped behind the hobbits at his side. His eyes were shining.

"Perhaps we will stay longer than first planned," she said softly. "Faramir is quite capable of handling Gondor while we are away for there is no longer any threat to the lands."

His expression shifted slightly to amusement. "You read my thoughts, meldanya. I was going to ask you if you were willing to remain in Annúminas for a time longer. I suppose I do not have need to now." He laughed quietly and gently brushed his fingers against her hand on the reins of her pale horse. "There is something I must speak with you about once we are alone, yet it is able to wait for now. Seeing my hobbit friends with their kin has brought it to my thoughts when I had not pondered it before...or not more than once."

He said no more of it, yet Arwen suddenly wondered what he had thought of so unexpectedly. He was not anxious or worried, so she was content to know it was not of great importance or urgency, though she was now curious as to what he was thinking. She looked over to him, to the hobbits with their wives and one daughter, and she felt a burst of understanding.

_At last_, she thought with a soft smile. _I wondered if he would ever speak of it..._

* * *

I am very sorry everyone, but I will not be putting up any chaps all this week since school is starting and I will be gone for three days. Hopefully I will have something special for the weekend :).


	29. Future to Come

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am terribly sorry!! I really meant to get this on during the weekend but...it did not happen that way. I was quite tired and could not write very well until Sun. :) and I finally got situated with school. School is quite in the way with writing :D by the way. lindahoyland: thank you very much for the encouragement! I am not fond of school but I'll live :). Thank you everyone for your reviews!! And yes...there is plenty of fluff in this one and much to come ;). Enjoy ch. 29!!

After the hobbits were given quarters for the night, Arwen waited in a parlour where a fire burned fierce in the great hearth. The flickering light cast shadows about the room and danced in her grey eyes.

Aragorn entered the room silently, closing the door quietly behind him. "I knew you would be here."

"And I knew you would come," she said smiling.

He sat beside her and ran his fingers through her silken locks of midnight. She laid her head against his shoulder feeling his gentle touch and grasped his hand tightly.

"I also know what you wished to speak of, my love," she whispered.

His hand paused a moment in her hair. "I have come to expect such from you after our years together. You always seem to know what are my thoughts."

"As you do mine."

"Today I watched Sam with his daughter Elanor and...it created questions in my mind that I have not been able to shake. Once before they surfaced soon after we returned from Edoras, yet only now have they returned."

Arwen smiled. She had once had a vision of a young boy with dark hair and grey eyes leap into her arms laughing and grinning ear-to-ear. His face had not been clear as with her own sight, yet she knew who he was. Aragorn was thinking of an heir...or children at the least.

She nestled closer. "I know...They have been in my thoughts as well."

* * *

After spending a year in the restored dwellings of Annúminas, Aragorn and Arwen returned to Minas Tirith. The people rejoiced to see them come again and waited in the streets to welcome them home. The City of Kings was now more fair and mighty than it had ever been even in the days of its youth. King Elessar had blessed it beyond the cities of Men of Middle-earth and revealed the glory of Númenor in its white marble paths and gleaming walls.

Arwen lay undisturbed reading a thin book in an open room near a courtyard of the Citadel. A light breeze breathed softly through the trees and where she reclined in subtle concentration on a slender divan. Her pale green skirts had lifted to her calves so that her pale skin gleamed in the shrouded sunlight as her feet rested flat on the plush covering.

The book she read was a collection of lays and songs of Gondor even from thousands of years ago when it was first founded. They differed slightly from the style of the Elves, yet she enjoyed them just as much as men wrote their thoughts and dreams while between being warriors or lovers.

She did not stir even when Aragorn came quietly to her. His steps were soft and his stride long. His eyes were bright like stars as he looked upon his beloved and felt a love more infinite than the heavens, deeper than the Sea, and stronger than the roots of the mountains.

He sat at her knees and only then did she look away from her book. Her grey eyes smiled up at him as she slowly closed the book in her hands. His hand rested lightly on her bared leg as he gazed down upon her radiant face.

Aragorn's garments were rich red of kingly appearance and Arwen recalled the many times before in years previous when he would arrive in Rivendell in rugged, worn bearing. Even then she thought him a King of Men who had no equal.

She lifted a hand to run her fingers through the ends of his dark, smooth hair. "I walked among the stars waiting for you...and you came."

"I looked up from the earth where I walked and saw you, so I came, 1. melda." He glanced out into the courtyard. "Little needs doing this day and I sought for you in my heart."

Samwise Gamgee, his wife Rosie, and their daughter Elanor had recently departed after spending many months in Minas Tirith. Once Legolas had heard of the brave hobbit's return, he gathered up Gimli from Aglarond and all had had a merry meeting. Now Aragorn felt an absence as many times before that could only be truly filled by his most beloved.

"The Mid-year's feast approaches," Arwen murmured after setting the book aside. Her head rested against the divan. "I shall be glad of the day."

There was no need to explain. Aragorn and Arwen had finally been wed on Mid-year's Day long ago near the beginning of the Fourth Age. Each time it arrived in the year, their hearts rejoiced at the memory, yet many had begun to wonder if their King and Queen were to have an Heir to the Throne for it had already been twenty-tree years since. Both heard the considering though neither had mentioned it since Lake Evendim.

"And I also am glad of it," said Aragorn. His fingers slowly swept up and down her lower leg where her glimmering skin was bared in the soft sunlight.

"I wish Legolas and Gimli would have remained longer for they are pleasant company even with their friendly bantering. Ithilien and the Caves of Aglarond have never been more fair...as well as Gondor," said Arwen. She looked into Aragorn's eyes. "Estel, I have a greater respect for you than any King before you even in your bloodline. You have shown mercy, justice, wisdom, loyalty, and all else that is desired in a king. Most precious of all is the love you bear for all you people and all your lands. It was what was lacking in the kings who have failed before you. You shall never fail."

Aragorn watched her with an indeterminable expression until he bent to kiss her tenderly. Her hand came to his cheek, and he pulled back to gaze into her beautiful grey eyes adorned with thick, dark lashes.

"And I respect and adore you for the sacrifice you made for me long ago. Nothing I have done has compared in the least."

She brought her other hand to his face, holding it gently in her warm grasp. "You have fulfilled hundreds of hearts while I have for one alone."

"Nay, my love, there are many who have received courage and hope from you, yet you have not truly seen it. I am proud you are mine."

"As I am that you are mind," she whispered drawing his face closer. A smile appeared on her full lips as his eyes met hers.

* * *

More years passed and the Midsummer feast had come once again. They had become a glorious time of festivity in Gondor and the streets of Minas Tirith were littered with sweet flowers, yet the twenty-fifth of March was the only celebration that surpassed the festivities.

Prince Imrahil arrived in the City of Kings as well as many other lords and high men of the lands of Gondor. It was considered the highest honour to be invited to the Tower of Ecthelion for the great feasting that would take place there.

There was to be merrymaking of many sorts from the dawn to the night. Tournaments of the sword and bow began at noon, music was heard as sweet lilting upon the wind throughout the entire length of the day, and foods of all sorts filled the bellies of many along with wine and ale of the finest sort.

Noon drew on and the tournaments began in the fields before the gates of the bustling city. King Elessar rode out with the White Tree adorning his fine apparel with most of the people of the city who stood in the grass laughing and waiting. Arwen was at Aragorn's side brilliant beneath the sunlight as ever. Many wondered if Elessar would draw Andúril for they all had heard of his unsurpassed skill with the sword—or any weapon—and silently desired to see his use of the shining blade so renowned and bright. Would any be able to stand against it or its wielder?

Aragorn beheld the many men who planned to test one another standing along with the others. Most were young and fit, yet there were some few whose faces were lined with more years and flecks of grey were prominent in their dark hair. The men of Gondor were mighty and strong indeed.

It was quite a length of time before the champion arose in the bright field lifting his sword to the heavens in a cry of victory. He was young with shining blue eyes and long dark tresses glimmering in the sun that watched from above. He laughed at all the cheering that was also raised up with his keen blade, and his eyes fell upon his King who now waited for the clamour to commence. His eyes were far brighter and his bearing mightier as he stood gazing amongst the throng of tall, fair men and women.

"I congratulate you, young one," he said stepping forward to greet the champion. "What is your name?"

"Boromir son of Bergil, my King."

Aragorn was surprised at the name. "Son of Bergil...glad am I to meet you for your father and his have both done a great service to all of Gondor. They have taught you well, I see." He smiled slightly. From his name, he discerned the notion that the young man was named for Lord Faramir's long-past brother Boromir.

Boromir bowed. "I am honoured by your words, my King." He looked around at the hundreds of faces observing the two and appeared somewhat hesitant as he spoke. "The people...they and myself have often heard of your skill with the blade. Would you care to grant us a glimpse of this renown? To compete against the champion of this day is a perfect chance...as we may see it."

Aragorn met Boromir's gaze and then glanced about as he had done. He had spoken loud enough for the throng to hear and many nodded or appeared eager at the prospect.

"Let us see who truly is best!" cried a man amongst the multitude.

"Fight him!" called another soon after.

There was a long moment of silence as King Elessar contemplated the thought. He glanced over his shoulder to where Arwen stood with her horse's reins in her pale hand watching with a faint smile. He drew a deep breath and gestured with his hand.

"It will be done," he called out to all present. "Since you so desire to witness the words you have heard made valid...it will be done."

Boromir did not appear relieved or pleased but paled faintly. To contend with the King of the West—_his_ King—would be an honour yet also a daunting task as he stood before hundreds of curious Gondorians.

Aragorn came to his horse to get his sword in its sheath. Arwen touched his hand, as he grasped the hilt, and her eyes searched his.

"Your skills have not diminished in the least even after these years. You knew."

"Yes, yet it would not be right to refuse the challenge."

Her eyes glinted with amusement. "There are some things all men have in common. None can turn away from a fight."

He laughed quietly and smiled when she lifted his hand to her lips.

"Then luck be with you though I know it ever is...and you shall not need it."

He drew Andúril from its silver sheath, and it glittered like flame in the light of the sun. Boromir readied his sword as Aragorn came forward. He stood a head taller, lean and noble with limbs as powerful as in his youth.

The fight lasted little time. Boromir practiced his best, yet Aragorn could not be near defeated. Andúril flashed like lightning as it came down on its opponent's sword and struck it to the ground.

Boromir lifted his hands and grinned. "You have bested me by far, my King. I must congratulate _you_ this time." He bowed low and retrieved his sword from the grass.

King Elessar bowed as well. "Thank you, young Boromir. You have fought well and are a worthy opponent."

From ever on he remembered Bergil's son Boromir, the young and skilled man.

* * *

Evening fell on Mid-year's Day and Elessar and Undómiel entered Merethrond where the great feasting and celebrating was to take place for all of the invited guests. Joyous music swelled to the high ceiling and through the mighty stone hall as the many people gathered together to speak in merry conversation.

Dancing followed the grand meal as all drank and ate their fill. Most had taken a fair amount of wine as well, lightening their spirits to a more elevated height.

Aragorn watched those who had already begun to dance with the jubilant music and looked to Arwen beside him. He smiled brightly and took her hand in his. She questioned him with her grey gaze.

"Come," he murmured. "The night is young."

She smiled and rose with him to walk out to the open floor where the others moved lightly and nimbly to the joyous melodies so skilfully played. Her cheeks were a faint rose as she glanced about at the others who now watched their King and Queen.

Gracefully they went, not heeding the people surrounding them, as they were joined by many more men and women clothed in fair apparel. The music transformed and slowed into a soothing, haunting harmony. Arwen drew closer to Aragorn before they stepped away from the dancing and felt him pressed against her with a soothing heat. He wrapped his arms around her and set a kiss on her silken hair.

"The night is young," she whispered lifting her lips to his ear, her warm breath against it. "There are still many hours to spend."

His nose brushed against her throat as he brought his face close to hers. "Then let us spend them well, my lady." He smiled and ran a finger along her jaw line. Then she laughed softly as he nuzzled against her slender throat.

"Perhaps we should leave them to their dancing," Arwen murmured after grasping his face in her thumbs. "The music is beautiful. They are learning the skill of the Elves each day."

"Indeed. I believe this was surely created in honour of the Fair Folk...if I recall correctly," he said listening to the flowing melodies sweet and sorrowful but studying her shining eyes catching the light about them like bright gems.

They listened now more intently to the music. It felt they were drawn into a land many ages ago when the world was young and the Elves walked abundantly upon the earth, creating a brilliance that was now missed as they departed the Hither Shores. The trees bent as if bowing when they strode past, the wind sang to them in gentle tunes, and the water chimed greetings. The earth still spoke of their footsteps and rich voices, yet in anguish that they were greatly lessened.

Aragorn and Arwen moved slowly away from the throng who were merry in spirit and heart. The glittering stars greeted them as they came out beneath the open heavens violet with evening. There was a full moon that night casting a silvery light upon the fair city.

The two did not know the joy that would soon enter their lives for both felt that their years spent together were splendid and cherished, yet there was another who would need their everlasting love.


	30. Eldarion

AUTHOR'S NOTE: School is truly becoming an obstacle in the world of writing and I am sure some of you know this already. In my first week I already had lots of homework and quizzes :P!! I will truly try to work around it but I am warning you that I may not be getting more ch.s on very fast as you can see with the past two or three chaps. Thank you all once again very very much!! Enjoy ch. 30!

Aragorn had received word from a servant of the Tower that Arwen wished to speak with him alone. It was two months after the Mid-year's celebration. He finished speaking with a man who had come to him in the throne room and went swiftly to the quarters where Arwen was waiting. He slipped the winged crown from his brow for he needed it not in his time with his beloved to set it upon a small table.

Arwen stood at a window gazing out from that high place over a land lush and fertile. She held her hands clasped before her, resting against soft velvet of burgundy of her garments. A bright gem hung upon her pale brow catching the light of the sun streaming in golden beams through the window. Her eyes glittered when she turned her head as he entered.

"Estel...you did not take long," she said.

He smiled and walked slowly forward with his hands at his waist. "I must put aside all other things for you, Undómiel. You are far more important to me than anything else on this earth."

Her lips quivered with a smile and her keen gaze returned to the lands once again. Aragorn came beside her and also looked out upon Gondor. He had done so before many years ago when he first had been crowned King of both Gondor and Arnor.

Aragorn wondered what it was she had wished to discuss of in privacy, yet he had learned long ago to wait for her to choose to speak first. Whatever was on her mind, she was taking a moment to gather her thoughts. Her grey eyes were distant and searching of things unseen.

"You have been...different of late," he murmured at last.

She said nothing.

He glanced down at her. He knew not what it was, yet there was an air about her that had shifted somewhat for the past two months. Each time they went to rest for the night he could feel it like an unseen presence he continued to search for. Suddenly he paused in his thoughts. Something came to mind.

He slowly turned around to stare at his beloved. His eyes were glazed over with absolute wonder. "You..."

He did not even say another word before her entire countenance became glorified by a smile lit by the sun. She was more beautiful then than ever he had seen her. He grasped her hands and a shining grin fluttered across his lips.

"Life has awakened," she murmured running a finger along his unpointed ear. "I knew you had no need for me to tell you, my love. You knew."

Aragorn lifted a hand to her smooth cheek. "There are no words to speak. To have a child is a joy beyond words or feeling. I truly cannot express my heart."

Arwen laughed as she slowly placed her arms around his neck and rested her head against his broad chest. It was a place she had found warm comfort many times uncountable and in the solace of his gentle arms that entwined about her as though they were one.

"I love you," Aragorn murmured into her shadowy hair. "I love you more than life itself."

"As I love you, Estel...As I love you."

* * *

As the months drew on, words spread through Minas Tirith that the Queen Evenstar was with child. Many guessed it would be a son, few saying a daughter would be born first. Those in the White Tower spoke together in thrilled whispers whenever they caught a glimpse of their fair Queen with a slowly rounding belly.

Arwen walked to where the White Tree flowered and the water of the fountain churned. She sighed and looked out over the land remembering how far her eyes had once pierced when the life of the Eldar still remained. Now what had been sharp was duller or blurred, yet she rarely paid heed to such details any longer.

The Guards of the Citadel watched her out of the corner of their eyes, not in suspicion, but in renewed wonder. Lush grass brushed beneath her feet as her long, pale skirts trailed behind. She suddenly recalled the time when she stood beside Nimloth with Aragorn and Frodo the Ringbearer approached to request leave of the King. She had given him the bright necklace she wore to remember Aragorn and herself as he took her place on the Grey Ship. Arwen wondered then where Frodo was at that moment in the West.

It had been five and a half months since the conception as her belly now rounded noticeably and the summer faded as autumn settled over the land. The wind was crisper and the green transformed to warm colours of fall. The sun shone high in the sapphire heavens where there was not even a wisp of cloud obscuring the deep blue. The Fields of the Pelennor was a mass of emerald shifting beneath the sun's golden rays and Anduin glittered like a wide ribbon of fish scales running across the land.

Arwen looked up and an eagle soared high above the city barely in sight. She wondered why it was hovering over Minas Tirith as it was. There was no prey in the city big enough for an eagle its size.

Aragorn had been bursting with joy and pride since the day he knew of Arwen's being with child. She had felt him watching her with intent eyes many times when they would wake with the sun or stand together in the day. It made her smile faintly each time.

* * *

King Èomer of Rohan arrived in the glorious city as Arwen's time drew near. He had come alone leaving his wife and three children in Edoras this time. They had come before, yet he pass through the gates accompanied only by his proud steed. Its hooves clattered on the white marble streets as he led it on through the six levels until they came to the seventh where Èomer was allowed entrance as many times before.

He was still proud and mighty, yet his yellow hair was streaked with much silvery-grey in his older age, and the lines of his face were no longer those of chiselled youth. But his grip was as strong as ever on sword or lance as he rode his mount with skilled precision equal to the days of his youth.

Aragorn heard of his arrival and rose from his throne in the Hall of Kings and stepped down from the dais once the doors were opened. His friend of many years and trials bowed low before him.

"Dear Èomer, glad am I to see you again," he said in a voice gilded with elation. His eyes darkened when he truly looked upon the Rohirrim man who no longer appeared as he once had. Aragorn seemed little changed from the ending of the Third Age, yet many whom he loved had passed through time much more quickly and with much more wear than he ever would face. He placed a firm hand on Èomer's shoulder. "Come, friend, let us sit together and speak."

Èomer nodded with a clear smile and returned the warm gesture. "Of course."

After speaking of trivial matters and discussing concerns of both kingdoms, Èomer paused and looked upon King Elessar with gleaming eyes.

"I have heard word...word that Queen Evenstar is with child at last. Is it true?"

Aragorn's eyes burned with unbarred delight. "Indeed it is true. I now may finally experience the joy you, and many others I know, have over the years. Patience is rewarding."

"As I have realised many times," Èomer chuckled. He stroked his grey beard. "I pray to the Valar it is a mighty son who bears the burden of kinghood as well and wisely as you do, my friend."

"Thank you," said Aragorn. "That is my wish as well though a child, whether a daughter or son, is enough to set my heart aglow as it is now. I will call for Arwen so that you may speak with her. She would be glad as I am to see you after all this time."

And so she was brought to the parlour. Her face brightened when she saw the aging king of Rohan sitting near Aragorn. She was holding her large belly with one hand and reached out the other to Èomer who took it and clasped it with both of his after rising at once to his feet in her presence.

He smiled. "Greetings, fair Undómiel. I came as swiftly as I could when I heard the splendid tidings. The people of Rohan are overjoyed to hear that the renowned King and Queen of Gondor are to have a son or daughter to uphold the noble blood of both your lines." He sat once Aragorn had aided his beloved in being seated beside him. "I hope to come again once this child of yours is born."

"As do we," said Aragorn.

"The time is shortening," Arwen murmured with a pleasant smile. "It shall not be long now."

Èomer was given quarters to stay in as long as he wished, and Arwen found herself alone with Aragorn. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he stood gazing into the fire that had been kindled in the marbled hearth.

"You know, do you not?" he murmured when she entered the room.

"Yes...I do."

He turned his glittering eyes upon her. "We are to have a son?"

Her eyes sparkled like burnished mithril in the firelight and she grasped his hand softly. "Yes, we are. You had no need to ask, I see."

He laughed quietly and let his arms fall to his sides. He was silent then for a lengthy amount of time until Arwen gently fingered the sleek material of his sleeve.

"Night has come and the sun is set. Let us go to rest as our friend Èomer has done." Aragorn's face was clouded for an instant and she held his arm when she saw it. "You are anxious for him?"

"I age none at all it seems while he is grey with many winters already. I fear it will not seem long before he is also gone as many have passed afore him. It grieves me to think of it."

"Then do not, my love. Think of the new life fast approaching instead." She smiled and grasped his head in her hands to kiss his brow. "Come and rest your weary mind and forget of the troubles of the world for a time."

And indeed he did as dreams of a dark-haired son flying into his arms with crystal laughter soothed his thoughts and turned away his concern.

* * *

Èomer departed two weeks later and bid them farewell with a shining smile. By this time the word he had heard some weeks ago had spread over all of Middle-earth like fire in the wind. The Elves were especially interested—those who were left in Ithilien—and word of blessing was sent at once to the Elfstone.

Arwen Undómiel was now in the ninth month of conception. It seemed the air had become tense with anticipation in the Tower of Ecthelion and her belly swelled with haste. Aragorn tending to her more often than to his kingdom, yet the people heeded it not for they also waited almost impatiently for the glorious day. When would it come?

Aragorn and Arwen had withdrawn to bed, yet she had difficult falling into a restful sleep. She sat up and knew then as a searing pain rushed through her why rest would not come that night. It would not for a few hours yet.

She laid a hand on Aragorn's arm and he woke immediately, sitting up beside her. "What...?" He stared for a moment and leaped from the bed to dress quickly. The time had come.

Aragorn was not permitted to enter the room in the Houses of Healing where Arwen had been brought as the pain of birth began to quicken. He paced outside of the door being anxious and thrilled at the same moment though revealing little sign of it. The warden had at first chuckled and shook his head when he saw Aragorn behaving as he was.

The stars were shining brilliantly in the sky and the moon's glimmering beams fell upon Minas Tirith with a tender caress. Few were awake at that hour. Nightingales sang in the shadowed boughs of the trees and the wind whispered softly words of comfort to the sleeping.

Aragorn stood at a window as he waited patiently. In the light of the moon and stars his eyes gleamed and his hair shimmered. He appeared an Elf-lord out of the West or a King of Númenor, that had been destroyed, stepped upon the shore of a lesser land. He did not wear a crown, yet it seemed one could be seen upon his noble brow. He was tall and mighty with wisdom uncounted among Men blazing in his eyes. The warden had been about to approach him to speak words of solace, yet he halted abruptly when he laid eyes upon his King.

Aragorn turned when he felt the slight man behind him. "Yes?"

"My King," he said bowing quite low, "I hope the birth of your..."

"Son..."

"...your son is blessed beyond your greatest thoughts and wishes. May the Valar keep him safe and give him the greatest gifts of Men...and perhaps Elves."

Aragorn thanked him warmly and the warden passed once again into the slim corridors. He came to the door of the room where Arwen had been placed and listened to the warm coaxing of an older woman and the shuffling of hurried feet moving about the room to prepare for the delivery. Arwen herself was making little sound even in the agony of birth but for very few moans of pain and labour.

The moon had set a few moments later and a twinge of grey appeared in the East. Stars faded one by one as grey twilight blanketed the land in a light dim and pale. At last the sun thrust her head over the high mountains and a blush of gold lined the horizon. All grey and shadows faded as the sun swathed the land in a golden mist that moved languidly over the fertile earth. The brilliant white clouds were suddenly lined in rose and gold like gems set in a brooch of azure blue above Middle-earth.

At that moment the door opened and a young woman smiled at Aragorn though her face was pale with weariness. "It is done," she said beckoning him forward. "You may enter now."

He felt he could not move at first for the joy was overwhelming. After waiting for so long the day had come. After watching those he loved with their sons and daughters he now could care for his own.

The young maiden opened the door wider as he stepped slowly forward to enter. The room was lit with golden light warm and beautiful. The three women departed at once after seeing him pass through the door. There on a bed covered in white linens lay his beloved Undómiel pale and worn yet so beautiful he could not breathe. In her arms resting against her breast was a small bundle that he could not see at first though he knew it was his son. _His_ son.

Arwen looked up slowly and gave him a faint smile. Her eyes were sparkling as tears formed in her eyes and caught the golden light. "If only you could see your face, meldanya..."


	31. Raising Life

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow!! Talk about writer's block!!! It's difficult to write when school sucks out all of the brain energy :D. I feel terrible for making you all wait this long, so I hope you all enjoy this ch. PrincessIce: Thank you very much!! You must have read a looong time :). It is good to have another reader such as yourself along. Everyone enjoy ch. 31!!

* * *

Aragorn and Arwen had named their son Eldarion in honour of those who had faded from Middle-earth. He had eyes of shining grey and hair—the little he had—of dark shadows upon his small head. When he was birthed, he did not cry out but gazed about the room with open eyes seeking knowledge. He still had not made much sound even now.

Arwen lay in bed with young Eldarion close in her arms. Aragorn knelt at the bedside at his son's height watching him with a gentle intensity Arwen thought beautiful.

"It is all dreamlike," he said stroking the babe's silken hair with loving fingers. "A new life has begun for us all."

Arwen kissed the child's pale brow with flushed lips and smiled at her beloved. She met his gaze and they needed not words to speak. By his birth, Eldarion had kindled a deeper fire within their hearts and tied even mightier bonds between them.

"He shall learn the ways of both the Elves and of Men," Arwen murmured. "The ancient customs of each he shall know as his own and uphold the memory of those who have crossed over the Sea into the West."

"For them he was named," said Aragorn, "and for them he shall live." He lifted a hand over the child's brow and gently brushed it with his fingers in a silent blessing.

* * *

Many tidings of blessings and best wishes arrived in Minas Tirith for the new son that had been born at the ending of winter. Aragorn hastened through his duties—quickly but efficiently—so that more time was had of the day with Eldarion and his beautiful mother.

Eldarion continued to grow into a healthy young child of the age of two as he was raised by the two greatest and most renowned living at that time in Middle-earth. Already they were imparting upon him an elven-wisdom and sound mind. He spoke or shouted less than other youths of the city and watched all about him with discerning, large grey eyes that gleamed with concentration not often seen in one so young. But his energy was abounding as he leaped about in childish play or rushed to climb trees in the courtyards of the Citadel. His eagerness was catching.

Legolas and Gimli arrived one day after meeting in Gondor to journey to the City of Kings once they decided to see this son of Aragorn's. Neither was wed nor had sons or daughters. Aragorn heard long ago of their approach and rushed out to the Court of the Fountain to meet them.

"Legolas! Gimli! Glad am I to see you again!" he cried in his rich, clear voice untainted by time.

They allowed their horses to be led away to the stables and came to where Aragorn had stopped nearby. Legolas' fair elven-face gleamed with a brilliant smile of joy and Gimli's grin could be seen amidst the dark hair of his beard. They all clasped shoulders and hands and stood silent for a moment in deep remembrance.

"The Three Hunters reunited once again," Aragorn said quietly at last.

"And at a good time too!" said Gimli.

"We heard of Eldarion, your son, my friend, by your message. Has he the looks of his father...or mother?" asked Legolas.

Aragorn grinned. "Both, my dear friends, for his eyes are alike to Arwen's but his face alike to my own at that age. He shall be a fair, mighty youth once he has grown. I am already proud," he said.

Suddenly a small figure came rushing like a wind out of the North bursting out of the Tower of Ecthelion, over the grass, and towards Aragorn.

"1. Atar!" the young boy cried as he leapt into his father's strong arms. "Atar, I looked for you! I found you!"

Aragorn laughed and lifted him high into the air. "And why have you looked for me, my son?"

Eldarion's small mouth opened to speak, yet his eyes were averted by the intriguing sight of the slender Elf and stout Dwarf. He thought for a moment silently.

"Greetings Eldarion," said Legolas bowing slightly. His blue eyes flashed with interest as well.

"You are Legolas the Elf?"

"Indeed I am, young one."

"And you are Gimli the Dwarf?"

Gimli's chuckle was rich and rumbling. "That I am, lad! He's a bright one, Aragorn, no doubt of that."

Eldarion grinned and looked into his father's eyes. "I dreamed them last night."

"You dreamt _of_ them?" Aragorn asked and corrected softly.

"Yes, of them. They were here like now."

Aragorn nodded and shifted him in his arms. He glanced at his two friends who had become intent. There was a long silence until Eldarion shattered it with a heavy sigh.

"Can I go now, Atar?"

"Of course, 2. yondo. Go on..." He set the young one on the ground, and he sped off past them to the Tower where he often ran about imagining grand battles or fair elven-lands. Aragorn's eyes followed him even when he passed inside.

"It is already evident he has the gift of foresight," Legolas murmured.

"Perhaps it was only a dream for we speak often of you both," said Aragorn returning his gaze to the two guests. "I was told of your coming three days ago, so he must have heard the word as well."

"You know that is not true with this instance. You saw the look of his eyes when he mentioned it," said the Elf.

Aragorn lowered his head. "I am denying it with my own tongue. It still seems...strange. He has the gifts of both our lines. He shall be a mighty young man when he has grown."

"It's to be expected with two such parents as he has," said Gimli stroking his beard. Streaks of silvery-grey mingled with his dark hair. "I always wondered what such children you and the fair Evenstar would bear."

"Thank you, my friend. He is a fine lad. A fine lad indeed."

* * *

Two more years passed in fair Gondor. It was filled with mighty trees, emerald grass, and glistening stone of the cities. The people rejoiced each morning they awoke to find another day of peace and prosperity in a land touched by troubles no longer.

Arwen could find neither Aragorn nor Eldarion one day until she heard her beloved's voice like a fragrant, warm wind wafting down the corridor she was passing through. She halted before a door where his voice drifted through and saw Aragorn with Eldarion on his knee. Their son was now four years of age and learning swiftly.

"...and in response you would say?" Aragorn was continuing the lessons if elvish he and Arwen had taught Eldarion since he learned to speak. He was already able to speak it with little trouble though not quite fluently.

Before he answered, Eldarion saw his mother and leapt from his father's lap to rush into her welcoming arms.

"3. Amil! The stars shine in your eyes like diamonds. I forgot how to say it in elvish..."

Arwen laughed and touched his nose. "Your father has taught you well." She glanced over to him, where he still sat, and smiled.

He grinned and rose to his feet slowly. "Our lessons are well enough for today," he said. "You are doing quite well, my son."

"Thank you, atar," Eldarion smiled. He laid his head against Arwen's shoulder and wrapped his arms about her throat. "Yet I can never tire of them for I dearly love the language. The Elves must be a beautiful folk to have such a beautiful language."

"Indeed they are," said Aragorn meeting Arwen's gaze.

"Someday you shall meet them when they come here to Minas Tirith," said Arwen. "It will not be long from now even."

* * *

"And he leapt upon his horse and rode even unto death, not heeding the danger about him. His eyes burned with passion unsurpassed as he faced the shadow straight on. None could have stopped him that dark day for he knew his purpose and what he must do."

Eldarion's eyes held riveted upon his mother's face as she recounted again the tale of his father he had heard many times before and each he listened to with the same incredible intrigue. His fists were tight against his legs where he sat upright upon his mother and father's bed in their private quarters. Arwen lounged beside him in shining garments of white, dark hair falling in soft waves about her face and on the bed. She smiled as she resumed the tale and told of Aragorn's journey through the Paths of the Dead with the noble Dúnedain, the sons of Elrond, and Legolas and Gimli of the Fellowship of the Ring.

"There he stood at the dark Stone of Erech glistening in the shadows. The dead that followed after waited for his command for he was the Heir of Isildur of whom they had awaited for many long years of this earth." Her crystal elvish voice had entranced her son and thrown him into the tale as if he was watching from a distance, smelling the dank wind and hearing the rustling of the horses' hooves as they became nervous in the presence of those who were no longer living. He had hardly moved at all in the time she recounted the events as in the other instances she had spoken of it so clearly.

When Arwen came at last to the end where Aragorn was crowned King of Gondor, they wed, and the Ringbearer departed Middle-earth she realised the shadows had grown long outside upon the grass and the sun was fading into the West. She drew a deep breath and sat up on the bed.

"Will you tell me of Beren and Lúthien tomorrow, mother?" asked Eldarion.

"Nay, my son, you must wait awhile longer to hear that tale for there is much darkness within its depths and a deepness of thought you cannot yet understand." She ran her long, pale fingers through his glistening dark hair. "Night is coming. You must soon go to rest."

"But how can I now?" he cried standing on the bed. "There is so much to think of!"

Arwen smiled and sat him down before her. "So you can dream of the things you have now seen."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Where is father?"

"He is busy at the moment for he has duties that are important as a king."

Eldarion grinned. "He is the greatest king to have lived!"

"You and I believe it at least, yet we are, perhaps, somewhat influenced." She laughed quietly and kissed his brow. "Now go and ready for the night, Eldarion. Your father shall be here soon enough."

He kissed her in return and leaped from the bed to the floor in a rush to complete his task. Arwen smiled as she watched him speed out through the doors and down the hall.

After a few moments had passed, another entered the bed chamber. Arwen had changed into nightclothes and was lying on her side upon the bed thinking of the Tale of Beren and Lúthien of which Eldarion had inquired her to tell. It brought memories from the past into her mind that she had not recalled for many years.

Aragorn slid onto the bed enhancing those memories by his fresh, rich scent that faintly touched Arwen's nose. He sat beside her and drew away the hair from her face. She turned slightly so she could look up into his face and lifted a hand to his cheek.

He smiled and took her hand in his to kiss it. "How are you, my love?"

"Quite well," she whispered. "Eldarion was waiting for you."

"I know. He has been eager to be around of late. He often sits unnoticed in the Hall of Kings as I speak with guests or manage issues of the kingdom, yet I cannot acknowledge him when I am occupied as I am. It has been troubling me."

"He knows you cannot, and might even believe he is not seen even by you." Arwen drew closer to him. "I yearn to see him grow older for already I see great things springing up within him. I am proud of our son though he is still so young."

Aragorn nodded and kissed her brow. "You look weary, Undómiel. He wished for another tale tonight, did he not?" He smiled.

"Indeed! He never tires of hearing of the War of the Ring, yet...he asked to hear of Beren and Lúthien once again."

"Perhaps it is time he heard it in full," Aragorn murmured.

"Perhaps...He has a great yearning to know all he can be taught and wishes to know all I have to tell as he does with you."

Suddenly soft padding of feet could be heard racing toward the doorway. Aragorn smiled and turned his head as Eldarion came rushing into the bed chamber. His eyes brightened at the sight of his father and he leaped onto the bed at once.

"Father! There you are!"

Aragorn laughed as Eldarion jumped into him. "Well, what stories _has_ your mother been telling you at this hour of the evening? You shall never sleep now!"

Eldarion laughed and snuggled into his father's broad chest with closed eyes. "She told me about you, atar. I want to do great things like you have and gain such wondrous renown."

"You shall have to wait do such things, my son, for you are not old enough yet. Just wait a bit longer."

"But it is so long from now," he murmured.

Arwen sat up once again and caressed his pale cheek. "Time flies past swifter than you realise now and soon you shall find yourself a grown man making your own decisions."

Eldarion's eyes grew large. "Really? It seems strange now..."

Arwen smiled. "Indeed it does."

The sun had fallen into the West as the sky darkened and the stars appeared out of the blue haze, sparkling like white gems thrown into the heavens by a great hand. The night was cool with a warm breeze softening the chill air and bearing upon its wings a sweet fragrance. Arwen pulled away the sheer drapes to allow the wind to drift in. She smiled when she turned and saw Eldarion growing weary at last in his father's gentle arms. Aragorn stroked his dark hair and gazed upon the young boy with eyes brimming with love and fatherly pride.

Arwen carefully returned to the bed and pulled back the blankets so that she could place them over her husband and son—as well as herself—before she lay beside them. Eldarion continued to attempt to remain waking, yet the steady rise and fall of Aragorn's chest with his light breathing soothed him into sleep. Both his mother and father watched him for a time longer until they also felt weariness come upon them as the sliver of moon gleamed high above the earth.

"Sleep well, fair Undómiel," Aragorn murmured as he placed Eldarion between them on the soft pallet. She bid him blessed sleep as well and closed her eyes. All three fell into tranquil sleep untouched by shadow or worry in a vision of love and beauty.

* * *

_1. father_

_2. son_

_3. mother_


	32. Esgaroth

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow, I really do not like to make you all wait but this time it was necessary (even though it was like 2 months!!). This ch. doesn't have as much substance, but I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for hanging in there and please be patient with me :D. Enjoy ch. 32!!

The deer's soft coat glistened in the shafts of golden sun breaking through the trees over its lean muscles. He lowered his head to the bright patch of grass but with eyes watching still the tranquil wood about him. His ears twitched with every faint sound that shattered the silence.

A shadowed figure crept through the underbrush poised and silent. Its feet brushed lightly over the earth and its powerful limbs were held steady as it moved forward careful to avoid the golden light and the cracking twigs. It was a young man.

His garments were the colour of the leaves and of the earth beneath his feet with boots of soft soles and leather. There hung a quiver at his back with slender arrows of black tips, yet he held the long bow in his firm grasp drawn taught against his shoulder. His shadowy hair shimmered softly in the dim light of the forest where it hung past his ears slightly pointed, and he had eyes of starlit grey that shone even in the shadows he slipped through though he had not yet touched manhood. He was a youth of twenty-one years and of an exceeding fair appearance.

The wind was in his favour as he halted beside a tree of great girth and watched the deer quickly nibble the grass it could find in the trees. It had a mighty rack of antlers high upon its head for it was a buck of prime age and strength just as its pursuer was of those who were of Men. He paused to lick his golden-brown fur with a soft pink tongue before returning to the scanty meal.

The young man suddenly lowered his bow when he glimpsed another shadowed one near the deer. He leaned forward, setting his keen gaze upon it in the distance to see more clearly what he could of it. It was indeed a wolf as he had thought.

Its silvery-grey fur was hidden somewhat in the shadow of the high trees, yet its glittering gold eyes shone forth from where it crouched in the underbrush ready to leap upon its prey. The young man thought it strange to see one alone, so he supposed the others were about though also hidden as was their companion. It drew one step forward in slow, practiced concentration.

The youth's arrow tip touched the ground as he watched the wolf do as he had done earlier and slowly eased the bow string forward before replacing the arrow to its quiver with the others.

"Today you shall have it," he murmured as though the wolf could hear him from afar. "But today only."

He rose silently and swiftly hastened away so the beast could have its meal for he knew it would have more difficulty finding food than he. He journeyed through the forest and out into the open land where the sun shone fully around him. It was a cheerful spring day for winter had only recently released its grip on Middle-earth as the cold drifted away on the new winds rushing in from the West and South.

The young man sat gently in the grass to be washed in the glory of the sun's shining rays. He laid his bow aside and slipped the full quiver from his back to the earth beside it for he no longer had need of them that day. For now he would rest and enjoy the hours he had of the day.

A man on horseback came racing over the field to meet him. The horse was a grey stallion proud and tall, yet its rider was greater and mightier still. He dismounted as smoothly as the Elven kindred and stroked the horse's nose before approaching the younger man in the grass.

"Eldarion, my son, why do you sit upon the ground as you do now?"

He looked up into his father's gleaming eyes and spoke in a smooth, ringing voice enriched by its depth. "Greetings, Atar. I was hunting in the forest when I decided it was not my place."

King Elessar watched his son silently for a moment, and then sat before him there in the thick grass. "What do you mean?"

"There are wolves there in the forest that I had not known of for I had only thought of the Wargs that used to roam here, I suppose, and was surprised when I caught sight of a common wolf pursuing the same deer as I."

King Elessar, his son Eldarion, and a fair company of men had ridden from Gondor to Erebor and some lands there in the North to meet with their rulers and people as a noble king should and now resided in Esgaroth for a time. Eldarion had been thrilled as they journeyed across the lands he had heard tell of since he could speak and the tales of what had occurred there, so now he marvelled at the city where the dragon Smaug had been slain by Bard the Bowman so many years ago.

"Yes, there are those of that creature that have always been uncorrupted unlike the Wargs who are of the Great Enemy, Morgoth of the First Age. They are noble beasts of the wood," said Aragorn.

A rushing wind from the South came down into the field stirring their dark hair about their faces. Aragorn lifted his face to its searching fingers and drew a deep breath of the warm freshness.

"Let us return," said Aragorn rising slowly to his feet.

Eldarion followed him and they walked together—Aragorn leading his horse—to the city of Esgaroth by the lake. It was a golden day with a refreshing wind rushing over the glistening water, and the city streets were filled with the breeze's clear scent. Eldarion had come to enjoy the city if only for its humble-seeming impression so plain after abiding in the grand city of Minas Tirith for so many years. It was only a shadow of the greatness of Men's abilities, yet visibly illustrated their solid, noble hearts.

"We are returning soon, are we not?" asked Eldarion quietly.

Aragorn thought for a moment. "Perhaps. Their hospitality has set my heart against departing so soon even when my other duties press upon me as well. One must firmly set aside some certain desires when your responsibilities make themselves known. It is set in stone for the leaders of this entire earth whether they rule a small village or a great city…like Minas Tirith."

"I have seen this all my life and wish it was not so at times."

"As do I, my son. As I have done for many long years. But without such discipline all kingdoms would have fallen ages ago in shame and dishonour." He laughed. "It cannot happen now!'

They entered the city where the people roamed the streets in complacency and peace. There were many sweeping bows and smiles for King Elessar and his son Eldarion for they had all watched him enter unto the city in awe and joy. Now they all recognized him and rejoiced to see him passing down the roads.

Eldarion smiled in return to the many people he saw looking at them. It never ceased to amaze him how much people respected and adored his father even when this was his first visit to Esgaroth. Word spread more quickly than he could imagine of the deeds that had been done.

There was to be feasting that night and it was being prepared even then when they reached the great dwelling of the descendant of Bard who now ruled there. He had found Elessar great company and could not seem to speak with him enough even after hours of discussion and conversation. He had also taken an interest in Eldarion.

They reached the mansion in the midst of the city and allowed the horse to be led away.

"I shall see you tonight, father," said Eldarion nodding to Aragorn. "I think, perhaps, I shall walk the streets myself before it begins at evening."

"Then tonight it shall be," said Aragorn smiling. He watched his son as he walked ahead to his quarters. He reminded him much of himself, walking confidently but silently with a purpose. He smiled again and headed towards his own chambers down a long hall to fresh for the celebration.

Bright lamps were lit down the walls of the feasting hall setting it aglow with warm light and sending glittering sparks off of the many gems worn that night by the guests who had clothed themselves in their finest apparel for the King of the West was to dine with them. There was lilting music of the harp, joyful chirping of a flute, and another stringed implement that Eldarion did not recognise when he entered the welcoming hall all flowing together in a merry tune. It was distinctly a song composed by Men—he realised when he listened carefully to it—unlike many in Gondor that had a melodic resonance similar to the beautiful lays of the Elves.

The young maidens and children wore bright blossoms entwined in their hair, light or dark, and it was the older women who had placed small gems amidst their long tresses. All wore colours of spring and the warmly lit chambers appeared a field of dancing flowers.

Aragorn came unto them in emerald green with the Elessar pinned upon his breast. Eldarion followed at his side in sapphire blue with no other fine adornment. The two men of Westernesse had no need of finery.

Aragorn leaned to whisper to his son. "Your mother truly would enjoy this. I have rarely seen such a display of radiance and merrymaking."

Eldarion laughed softly and nodded. "I must take leave of you, father, for my feet cannot bear to stand here idle any longer. At least their dances are similar to those of Gondor and Rohan. Somewhat…" He did not wait for a response to enter into the throng of gliding feet and bright smiles.

Aragorn grinned but felt an absence like the one he had felt so often before his kingship. He sighed as his thoughts drifted over the Misty Mountains, down Anduin the Great, and to the shining bastion of Minas Tirith where Arwen Undómiel had remained with their daughter Silmarien who was only five years of age. Arwen had not wished her to make the journey across Middle-earth until she was at least of seven years.

Eldarion soon found his feet could flow as easily as the people of Esgaroth after only moments. A maiden with dark brown hair with pale yellow blossoms and gleaming blue eyes was the first to find herself dancing with the son of King Elessar. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed prettily when she recognised him, yet she did not stumble in the intricate steps.

On it went, the men switching places with each other to dance with many different women young and old. Eldarion was laughing and grinning with the rest. Each time he let slip a young woman, they glided on regretfully to leave the fair youth. Many were even older than he.

The music faded to a halt when the people were given a respite. Eldarion searched for his father and caught sight of him speaking with a lord and his wife. He had streaks of grey at his temples and she in her pale braids. They were laughing and chatting light-heartedly. They both turned to look when he approached.

"This is my son, Eldarion Telcontar," said Aragorn smiling. "I believe you will be pleased to meet him."

Eldarion greeted the lord and his wife warmly feeling the thrill of the dancing still flowing through him. They were Beornad and Lailin of Esgaroth.

Beornad grinned. "So…you are the one the young maidens have been chattering about!" He chuckled. "It is no wonder the way you move so effortlessly with them to the music."

"Thank you, my lord," said Eldarion bowing slightly. "I am only as good as the other young men here."

"You have the great height of your father as well," said Lailin with shining eyes looking up into his. They were like a misty morning in the midst of winter.

Aragorn laughed gently. "Indeed he has!" He paused. "Yet with the eyes of his mother."

Eldarion looked up to meet his gaze and wondered at the glint in his eyes. It was something he had never quite seen before…

"Oh, I do wish the Lady Evenstar could have journeyed here as well," murmured Lailin. "I have heard so many fine words of her—not only from you, my King—yet it appears that shall come when I am old perhaps."

They soon both left to speak to another pair of guests.

"Continue to enjoy yourself," said King Elessar. His voice was tempered and deep. "I shall not be here for a time."

Eldarion watched his father slip away through the throng and he stood wondering what he was doing. He shrugged off the worry and smiled when he heard the music lift again above the conversations to signal the beginning of the dances once again.

A young woman with glistening ebony hair strewn with pale blue blossoms and eyes of the same shade caught his gaze and laid a hand on his arm.

"Would you care to join me?" she asked in a silken voice.

"Of course, my lady," he said bowing.

* * *

Eldarion did not remain long inside for he went in search of his father when he could no longer concentrate. He stopped in a long corridor to think of where he might be. He continued on, stepping out beneath the deep blue heavens of night where he supposed he would find Aragorn.

He tread lightly upon the dirt path he had begun to follow without realising it, and listened to the tranquil night surrounding the large lake beside which Esgaroth had been built.

He paused when he glimpsed a shadowed figure ahead sitting still on the shore of the lake. You could gaze at the sky and at the sheen of the lake and see no difference as the glittering stars reflected in the cool water below. The trees with wide-spread bows cast long shadows over the grass and dark sand.

There sat King Elessar watching the stars in elven curiosity. Eldarion stood motionless staring at his father whom he thought he knew so well, yet he saw something he had never caught sight of before with lucid moonlight outlining his noble face and the water lapping at his booted feet. He had seen him as a wonderful father to Silmarien and him, as a loyal lover of Arwen, a majestic king unmatched to Gondor and Arnor, and a healer to those in pain; yet now he saw a man. Just a man...who looked on at the beauty of Middle-earth left to him by the Elves.

"Come, Eldarion. Sit and see the stars."

Eldarion was startled out of his daze by his father's rich voice. He slowly came forward and settled on the shore beside him.

"Do you see it, my son? There is the Star of Eärendil."

"Yes, I have often gazed upon it at evening."

"And continue to do so, and remember the many tales I and your mother have accounted unto you of the Ages of Middle-earth. They are swiftly being forgotten and it is a sore thing to no longer know of those who persevered against the Shadow that dwelt here for so long. Then you shall pass them onto the children you bear. The Elves are departing Endorenna, yet we shall not forget them."

"Is there any chance…we could…journey to the kingdoms of the Elves?" Eldarion asked in a low whisper. He knew the subject was a fragile one.

"Nay, my son, for they are not to be visited again by Men. I, and you, will never walk upon their lands again except for in Ithilien where even they are dwindling."

"Then can you recount to me the tale of Tuor and of the hidden city of Gondolin?"

Aragorn smiled and nodded. "Of course. Long ago in the First Age of this world Morgoth's arm was long and grasped Middle-earth in a cold grip…"


	33. As One

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am sorry this took so long to post, but I am stalling to write the last ch. (it was going to be the next one, but I came up with more to write another ch.) because I reeaally am dreading it because it reeaally is a grievous part of this long tale and I do not wish for it to end. I must thank you all hardily once again for reading my story and being patient as I take so long :). Moi: Welcome! I am glad you found my story and that you really like it :). Thank you very much! There is no greater compliment in the world than to have someone tell you your writing reminds them of Tolkien's. Everyone enjoy ch. 33! I am sad that we are reaching the end...

* * *

Aragorn, Eldarion, and the men of Gondor who had accompanied them to Esgaroth and the lands in the Northeast returned to Minas Tirith, shining gloriously in the afternoon sun. There was a clatter of hooves upon the white marble streets as the King Elessar Telcontar and his son rode up through the city to the citadel where they were eagerly awaited. 

Once they were seen passing onto the open area of the Court of the Fountain, Aragorn was assailed. He laughed as Silmarien leaped into his arms in a flurry of dark, braided hair and brilliant white garb.

Eldarion smiled to see his young sister jump without fear of her father not reaching out to catch her. He would always be there when she jumped…and she knew that just as he had when he was a child. Their father stood ready to take hold of his daughter and son whenever they stumbled in life.

Aragorn held Silmarien in his arms as he continued on to Arwen Evenstar who had released her daughter to rush to her father. She stood regal and beautiful in pale blue and silver, the colours of the Valar Manwë and Varda.

"Well met, my King," she said with a slow smile.

Silmarien looked up into his face with large grey eyes after wrapping her arms about his neck. Her glossy dark hair tickled his cheek. "I missed you father. You should not go away so long."

He grinned and kissed her pale cheek. "I know, yet some things must be done as King."

Arwen stepped forward and grasped his head in her hands to press her lips against his brow. "And I also missed you, meldanya. Come inside and take rest from your long journey." She turned to Eldarion and also kissed his brow. "And you as well, my beloved son. Let us _all_ enter together."

* * *

Three years passed and men looked upon the King and his son as the mightiest Men that had lived in the Third Age. Even during such glorious years of peace the King of Gondor did not lie idle for he had learned many times not to forsake all care. 

There was training of the young men in the art of weaponry whether it was the sword, the bow, or the spear, and many more became skilled as in the height of Gondor and Arnor at the instruction of the most skilled man among them: Elessar Telcontar. He himself had begun to teach Eldarion when he was seven years of age…not to kill but to defend and to also teach in time.

Once every month Aragorn went out into the field to watch them practice. It was that time. He had taken Eldarion with him for the past five years. They rode out to where a company of soldiers had been since the early morning honing their skills. Most were Eldarion's age or older though there were some who were younger at only seventeen years of age.

Eldarion stood at his father's side watching as his father watched, fastidious and calculating. The men did their best, yet something was missing in their steps and attacks. He could not quite think what it was, yet he saw Aragorn also seeming troubled by their way of fighting.

He was surprised when his father stepped out and drew Andúril from its sheath. There was a resonant ringing and the sword blazed like fire in the sun, forged by the Elves long ago with edges never dulling and light never quenched. His hand was wrapped around the hilt in a way that seemed the blade was fashioned for him alone…the King of the West.

Some grew nervous in the presence of the King wielding the renowned sword. There was a shifting of feet and a few exchanged anxious glances. What was he doing?

"One of you attack me," said Aragorn. He laughed softly when no one even breathed. "Do not fear. I must see something."

There was a man four years older than Eldarion who stepped forward at last quickly making sure his stance was perfect before assailing Aragorn who watched calmly and quietly. Eldarion knew such a position would have frightened an enemy. There was no knowing when he would strike, how quickly, or how fiercely.

Clouds churned and spewed out wispy arms to veil the sun. The man sprung forward to attack his beckoning King. Aragorn simply blocked the blow with an almost casual air and nodded to himself. The younger man was surprised by how easily he brushed aside his sword and tried again, this time with renewed vigour.

Eldarion had never ceased to be amazed at his father's skill for the blade flowed as easily as though he had been birthed with the cold weapon in his grasp. None would ever master him in the days to come in Middle-earth for he had been taught by the Elves until he could surpass even many of them. Eldarion had learned well, yet he did not believe he could ever wield a sword so smooth as well as be so swift. He could hardly follow Andúril now as the test grew more intense.

Suddenly Aragorn stopped the man's attacks with a forceful block and a great clash of steel. "Good," he said. He looked out to all who were watching. "There is something lacking in your combat that I now understand and recognise."

He motioned to Eldarion to join him in the small opening the men had created for the fighting. He did with a wary gaze upon his father; sometimes he could not guess what the man was thinking or planning to do even after all these years. Only Arwen could do that.

"Draw your sword," said Aragorn.

Eldarion did and a quick look passed between them. Eldarion attacked with a swiftness he had not known before, and Aragorn now had to keep his ground with more alacrity and concentration. It was a dance of swords and feet that the others observed with awe and veneration. The world around them began to fade away as they focused chiefly on the movements of their blades, both realising at the same moment that Eldarion had grown in the past few years nearer his father's incredible ability. A faint smile appeared on King Elessar's face even amidst the struggle as he saw his son's admirable skill.

It was when both were breathing heavily and neither advancing any further that they stopped. There was a deafening silence among all who were present. There had never been witnessed such swordplay since the Second Age when Elendil and Gil-galad fought tirelessly with the Dark Lord.

"_That _is what is missing," said Aragorn sheathing Andúril. Its shimmering light faded and the sun peered over the clouds at last that could no longer conceal its golden beams from reaching out to touch the earth. "You fight as though you always bear about the knowledge that you never will be in true battle with Orcs or wicked Men in these days of peace; and so you only put a part of yourselves into what you are doing. All men these days believe there is no longer any threat in Middle-earth, yet I know there is still evil that lingers here. There always will be here if not in the Undying Lands. It is Men we look to now in apprehension for a seed was planted in their hearts long ago by Morgoth of the Shadow and we do not stand together against him or Sauron the Dark Lord in this Age. Who knows if our peace with the Men in the Eastern lands will hold or with the Wild Men near Rohan…Even many of the Umbarians are holding a festering rancour in their hearts against me, the King of Gondor, for I have defeated them and they are shamed still by it though many years have passed. There is no reason to lie idle in this peace or to suppose we will not need to defend ourselves or anyone ever again."

* * *

Arwen watched Aragorn from the corner of her eye. They were riding through a small wood near Minas Tirith and the Sea to enjoy the fresh, dancing breeze that played upon the leaves and the grass, singing of the spring that was fast approaching. Flowers were readying to push their blossoming heads through the earth to feel the sun at last, and leaves grew lush and abundant on the boughs of the trees of the forests. 

Arwen had been studying him closely of late for something, she felt, had changed—or was changing—of which she could not place no matter how hard she tried. She had even inquired as to his health and spirit, yet he felt nothing was amiss. Even Eldarion had not noticed anything different or odd. Only Arwen Undómiel knew Aragorn Elessar like she knew her own heart and soul, for they were of one spirit.

They had gone out alone together for more than to just enjoy the Sea-drifting wind that brought them all hope of a coming transformation in the land. Eldarion had grown into a man of great stature, proud bearing, increasing wisdom, ceaseless love, and royal knowledge. All praised his name and spoke to a great extent of the young man who had changed before their very eyes. He had put away childish things long years ago and now had even fallen in love.

There were none that recognised her better than Aragorn and Arwen. At once both had seen Eldarion one day and knew that a young maiden had captured his eye…and perhaps his heart like a fish in a net. Aragorn had spoken alone to Arwen that evening and told her of a woman of gold hair and emerald eyes who had sat in their presence at the Midsummer's feast. Eldarion had been entranced by her flawless, shining beauty for the entire night of celebrating and had even accompanied her to her home afterwards. The girl was not only beautiful but of a kind heart and noble blood for she was of pure Westernesse that was so very rare in the beginnings of the Fourth Age. She was Vanimeldë daughter of Pelendur of Dol Amroth who was of close kin to Imrahil, the man who had ridden at Aragorn's side at the Pelennor Fields so long ago. Eldarion did not know then of whose blood ran in her veins.

The two had grown close over the past months and love blossomed like a flower after the spring rains between them; although, neither had openly admitted to the burning passion in their hearts. The young women of Gondor would weep to see the tenderness that flourished so brightly there in Eldarion and Vanimeldë either when they were together or apart.

Aragorn led Arwen into a glade where the sun shone and the wind stirred gently. He dismounted and helped her to the ground beside him. The horses began to nibble on the thick grass while their masters lounged together in the same a short distance away.

Aragorn soothingly and absentmindedly stroked Arwen's outstretched arm where she lay on her side in the grass and he sat thinking. "He will soon inquire of her hand in union, I am sure. They can no longer stay away from one another for even a day or two." He smiled.

Arwen also smiled and looked up into his face. "That long journey you two both took almost tore his heart and hers for such length seems an eternity for love."

They gazed at one another, drinking in the sight of faces committed to memory with soft caresses of the mind from so many years ago. So many memories drifted to the surface at the sight of each other that they had not recalled for generations.

"It has been so long," murmured Aragorn, grasping her hand to kiss it tenderly. "Love has shaped our lives and our fates. There are few who know her so well as we."

Arwen leaned forward to press her lips against his and smiled. "She shall always be with us. I am happy for our son. Young Vanimeldë is a wonderful woman…and she will grow greater with years and Eldarion at her side. She will be a perfect Queen to aid him in ruling this kingdom, and I would gladly lay that responsibility at her feet. We have spoken oft of late."

Vanimeldë had been present at the birth of their youngest daughter and had shared in the resplendent joy that spilled over that blessed dawn. She also had served as one of the Queen's maidservants before Eldarion had even taken her into his arms.

The King and Queen of Gondor lounged there in the grass together for a time longer, listening to the singing wind and the whispering of the trees as the Elves once did in their ages of this world. Arwen always recalled her lost kin when she heard the melodious language of the trees and of all the forest around her.

There was a thumping of hooves upon the ground, and Aragorn and Arwen both stood to receive the rider who came swiftly down the path they had taken into the wood. Neither had told anyone of their day's trek into the forest, not even Eldarion, so they waited patiently to see who it might be.

A tall, broad-shouldered man leaped from his horse and moved at once into the glade. Eldarion's dark hair stirred away from his face as he greeted his mother and father. Arwen touched his arm when she saw the urgent glaze in his grey eyes.

"Mother, father, I must beg you to return with me to Minas Tirith! She has fallen ill!"

"Who has fallen ill, Eldarion?" asked his mother. She grasped his hand. "It is Vanimeldë, is it not?"

"It is indeed, and you must accompany me back at once for we cannot allow her to be so near death any longer. I have never seen the like in all my years." His face was drawn and apprehensive as he turned to Aragorn. "I fear for her, father. Please hurry."

Aragorn had rarely shown worry, yet he now mirrored his son's deep concern in his eyes. "Of course. Let us go as quickly as we are able." He offered a hand to his beloved and they three rode upon their horses like the wind that now rushed over the land alongside them…for it too feared for the health of the fair, golden-haired maiden of Dol Amroth.


	34. Healing Hands

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Since you all responded so desperately, I was inspired to write a bit more quickly :). I actually had no blocks here, so here you are! Bubble-Sheep & Valia-Elf: Do not worry! Eldarion's heart is certainly not going to be broken. That would be quite cruel of me! Satan's Advocate: Thank you :). I'm glad you're also reading my story. viviana: I am sure you will be very happy with the outcome. Thank you! lindahoyland: Your compliments are always so kind. I'm glad you are one of my regular reviewers :). Natulcien: Last but certainly not least! I was touched when I read that you got teary-eyed! I hope this chapter inspires such emotion as well, and, of course, I had to have a cliff-hanger. It's just an evil author thing to do ;). Everyone enjoy ch. 34!

* * *

Aragorn knew something was direly wrong as soon as they rode into the streets of Minas Tirith. He spurred his horse onward up into the depths of the great city without waiting to see if Arwen or Eldarion were close behind. A shadow had fallen over his heart, and he feared to see it again after so many years of its absence. Evil would never leave the earth even when its master was torn from it. 

The horse's hooves clattered on the marble over the hum of the people in the streets. They watched in wonder as their King, Queen, and their noble son rode swiftly to the Citadel. It was usually a slow procession where King Elessar and Queen Evenstar would greet people on their way or watch as they passed, so heads came together in bewilderment.

Aragorn realised Eldarion was almost racing past him in his haste, and he glanced behind to find that Arwen was there as well. They reached the Court of the Fountain all at once and a young Guard of the Citadel came rushing towards them without sword or spear.

"My lord!" he called to Eldarion who was first to have his feet on the ground. "My lord, you must go quickly! She seems to be growing worse by the hour…by the moment." His eyes found Aragorn and a surge of relief rushed through him. "Perhaps she shall indeed be saved."

Aragorn and Arwen followed Eldarion to the Tower gleaming bright in the early day, yet there was a spiritual gloom hanging over that fair place. Eldarion's stride was long and brisk as he climbed steps and passed through halls to come to the wide corridor where all of their quarters stood.

"She is not in the Houses of Healing?" asked Aragorn quietly.

"No. I dared not move her and we were nearest my own chambers," said Eldarion. "I did not wish to do anything that might harm her any worse."

"Good. Let us see if she can be mended."

Aragorn's heart sank when the door was opened and he looked into the bed chambers where Vanimeldë had been placed upon the large bed. His step grew quicker and he flung back his cloak as he sat upon the bedside. He could not prevent the sigh that escaped his throat.

Vanimeldë, of golden hair and pale beauty like the sun at dawn, lay limp upon the linen sheets. Her long, silken hair was damp and her soft skin glistening with fevered sweat even in the cool of the day. Her eyes were closed fast, and she appeared as dead for her breast rose and fell hardly at all with gentle breaths. He felt her skin and knew that death was nearing; it was clammy and rising and falling in temperature.

Arwen looked around at the three maidens that stood in the room who could no longer help. "Leave us. This is no place for the well."

Eldarion was on the other side of the bed and clasped Vanimeldë's cold hand to massage the life back into her blanched skin. His eyes were grey pools of concern and desolation as they gazed upon the ill young maiden of his heart.

Arwen saw the despair of her son and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder where he knelt. "Do not fear for her, Eldarion. She is in good hands now."

"I tried to help her myself, yet…I have not the immensity of power father has in his healing hands. It only aided her a little by taking away a bit of the fever." He lowered his brow into the soft linens with his beloved's hand in his. He did not even think to ask if the illness could affect him if he touched her.

Aragorn felt Vanimeldë's brow with a gentle hand like a father with his child. She was so distant that he frowned and closed his eyes to delve deeper. There was only darkness and mist.

"Eldarion…you know that I carried with me athelas from the North some time ago and that little has been used since. Go to my chambers and find the pouch that I held it in. You will know where it is."

When he had gone, Arwen met Aragorn's gaze. "Is it still useful after these years? I recall my father always having some in his study, yet herbs of Men are not of my learning."

"Athelas holds its virtue longer than any other healing plant for it is the strongest of them. But I do not know. May the Valar help us." His half-silver hair glistened in the sunlight as he leant over the young maiden once again. "It will aid her at least in her laboured breathing."

He whispered softly words that even Arwen could not hear as he laid a hand on Vanimeldë's brow. Arwen closed her eyes and felt a soft wind upon her skin that smelt of green life and the salt of the Sea from the West. She opened them and saw that the windows were ajar; she had not realised it before.

Eldarion returned at once and handed the athelas plant to his father, who took up a bowl at the bedside with fresh water and crumbled the dried leaves into the gleaming depths. A cleansing, fresh scent wafted into the room, uplifting those four that were present. Aragorn soaked a white cloth in the concoction and bathed Vanimeldë's arms, throat, and face in the healing water. Soon after, her breathing grew normal again, yet the colour did not return to her face.

Aragorn sat upon the bed once again, grasped Vanimeldë's hands in his, and bent close to her ear. Words of power and healing were spoken then that cannot be uttered here. Vanimeldë was slowly being drawn away from darkness and from threatening dreams that drowned her in gloom as her fever was taken from her by the healing of the hands of the King little by little.

Time passed and, at last, King Elessar stood and looked wearily upon the maiden of his tending. Arwen and Eldarion sat beside one another waiting for his word, yet a faint smile began to appear on the Evenstar's face. Eldarion leaped to his feet and was instantly at Vanimeldë's side for Aragorn had also begun to smile.

"She will not wake for a day or two," said Aragorn. "This ordeal has wearied her body and mind. The fever has not completely left either, yet it shall not get worse or impair her any longer."

"What was it?" asked Eldarion. His fingers gently caressed Vanimeldë's pale brow as he brushed away her damp hair.

"I truly do not know. I have never treated anything so severe except…" He stopped abruptly and stared silently. "No…it is nothing so vile."

"What?" He turned his head to look to his father. "What were you going to say?"

"The Black Breath. Yet those who bore it in their path are now long dead, and it differed in numerous ways. This only brought memories of it that were unwanted. Rejoice now in the fact that Vanimeldë will live and that it will not be long before she heals. I must go now and rest."

Arwen saw that Aragorn truly was weary for his face was worn and his stance not so straight. The sun had begun to descend into the Sea after the hours they had spent waiting for him to aid the young woman. It had been a long process that had swiftly drained away his energy.

He turned away and left Eldarion and Arwen with Vanimeldë with a slower pace than he had entered.

* * *

Middle-earth was flourishing under the cover of its protector who kept it from war or wickedness. He resolved all conflicts that he touched upon and gave generously of the wealth of his mighty kingdom to those who did not fare so well. All the lands of blessed Endorenna had not seen such harmony and prosperity since the days of Elendil and his sons for King Elessar Telcontar reigned. 

There was no land blessed like unto that of Gondor and Arnor lest it was Rohan, the land of the Horse-lords, where the men of both kingdoms passed frequently in-between. An oath had kept them as allies before, yet in the Fourth Age it had been far more than a promised word. King Elessar and King Èomer had been friends of great worth, like brothers of one mother, until Èomer passed from the earth long before his close companion.

Aragorn had attended the renowned man's burying in the rich, green lands of Rohan in terrible grief and remembrance only some years hence. There were none that were not moved to tears by his tribute to Èomer son of Éomund when he was the last to speak for him. Èomer's son now sat upon the throne of Rohan in Edoras as another close confident of the King of Gondor. It was there that he now went with Queen Evenstar, Eldarion and his wedded Vanimeldë, and an array of knights with the tree of Gondor emblazoned on their breastplates.

Eldarion had wed Vanimeldë only a few months after she had recovered from her strange illness. After realising he had been at her bedside until she returned to her full health, Vanimeldë knew she could never love another as much as she did him for his heart had fallen into her hands long before. It had only added to the joy that burgeoned in the White Tower even though only two months later King Èomer breathed his last.

When they arrived, Èomer's son Èodred greeted them at the gates on a fine steed shining white in the bright sunlight of the day. He had long golden hair braided over his shoulders and brilliant blue eyes like those of his mother Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. He was a handsome man, matured and wise.

"King Elessar!" He dismounted and knelt before Aragorn's horse. "I was overjoyed to hear the tidings of your coming, my lord. You are more than welcome in all of Rohan."

Aragorn dismounted as well and lifted Èodred to his feet. "Please stand, young lord. You are the king of these lands, not I."

"And yet I am bidden to do it for the sake of honour and respect. You are the greatest and noblest king, and so I kneel to you in service."

"I thank you, Èodred, for it is a great honour to me personally," said Aragorn as he smiled upon the younger man.

Èodred grinned when he saw Eldarion. "I am also glad to see you, my lord." He bowed before Vanimeldë. "I had heard that my lady was fair to see, yet I did not truly realise how splendid you truly were to behold. Welcome to Edoras, great city of Rohan."

"It is a pleasure to visit this place for I have heard often of its rolling, green hills and rich lands." She smiled, her beauty bright like the sun. "And of its people who are indeed courteous and wonderful."

"Eldarion, you have fared well I see," laughed Èodred. "Come! Let us all come to Meduseld where my father stood often with yours in friendship and in renown. There we can drink to this long-lasting peace that our King has kept intact."

"And yet it was not I who brought it," he said.

"But you have held it in your grasp for all to share for all these years. That in itself is worthy of praise," said Arwen standing proudly at his side.

Meduseld shone golden as it had for centuries and beckoned to them as they approached on the winding path. Many greeted them joyfully from the front of their dwellings as they passed or ran to tell others of their arrival.

Soon they all stood together, including Èodred's wife, with golden chalices in their hands filled with the finest wine Edoras could produce. They drank as one to the richness and peace of Gondor and Rohan and to their bloodlines that would continue that which they had started.

Edoras' guests were given lodging at once and they remained there for a time. There was no specific purpose for their stay in the realm of the Horse-lords; Aragorn had just asked them if they would accompany him to that fair place. Arwen supposed that he went in memory of his kingly friend.

Silmarien had lingered in Minas Tirith with her younger sister Tinúviel. Arwen had been reluctant to leave Tinúviel behind for she was only six years of age, yet Silmarien had insisted she go so that she could tend to her sister.

It was a month before the King and his fair company returned to Minas Tirith. His two daughters rushed out to meet Arwen and him and told him of how Steward Faramir's son had been there for a fortnight.

"And he did not stay?"

"No, father, he dealt with some business here for you and decided to return," said Silmarien.

"Ah, I wish he had waited. He would have received a better welcome," said Aragorn.

Arwen lifted Tinúviel into her arms. The young girl had long, dark hair like that of her mother and eyes of shining grey that seemed more like her father's. Even at such an age, it was already apparent that she would be an exceptional beauty when her years grew. Aragorn and Arwen had named her for their kin of the First Age, Lúthien Tinúviel, for both knew she would be the most beautiful of her time when Arwen was gone.

Aragorn suddenly stopped to see where he had come after uncounted years. He had three children more dear to him than life and of greater beauty than any landscape he had ever seen; even in the Elven kingdoms of the Third Age. But, even closer to his heart, he held his most precious possession at his side each and every day, each and every night. Arwen Undómiel was with him and was never absent from his presence. He smiled and felt overwhelmed by the blessings he had been given. He raised his eyes to the heavens where the sky shone brilliant blue and birds of the air rode liltingly on the sweet wind.

"Estel," murmured Arwen, "you are far away."

Aragorn kissed Tinúviel's brow and looked into her eyes. "Nay, my love, I never am gone long and I never will." His smile faded as a shadow of a great bird overhead passed over him.

* * *

Eldarion and Vanimeldë came together four years later to Aragorn and Arwen. They had urgent news that they did not wish to conceal any longer. Yet the King and Queen had already guessed. Vanimeldë was with child. 

Time began to pass swiftly for Aragorn once the blessed child was birthed, and he often had to pause in his kinghood to watch. He did not even have many duties as King of Gondor and Arnor for a time since little was stirring in Middle-earth, let alone his own kingdoms. Messengers were still passing down the North and South Roads, and keeping the peace in the North where his heart still turned at times.

The only notion that disturbed Aragorn was that there were young men who were growing restless among Men in the long years of peace. They were very few, yet he knew their numbers could grow without warning. He had already had to execute a youth from Dol Amroth who had troubled Vanimeldë herself before she wed Eldarion. He had tried to harm her because of his terrible jealousy and rallied four other young men to his sinister cause.

Aragorn lowered his head where he stood pondering such dark thoughts on a high balcony of the White Tower. "My beloved son…you shall have such trouble in your time as King. May you be wise and wary."

_Yet when will his time come?_ he thought.

_Soon_, the wind whispered as it curled around him. _Very soon._

He shuddered and moved into shadow where the stars no longer crowned his head in glory.

* * *

ANOTHER NOTE: I must inform you all that ch. 35 is the FINAL AND LAST chapter! Please be prepared for it: I cannot even begin to imagine how sad it will be. After all these months my story is finally coming to an end... 


	35. Eternity

AUTHOR'S NOTE-WARNING: This is indeed the final chapter of _Eternity_. PLEASE READ THIS! I urge you all to consider whether or not you want to read this ch. before going on. It was almost too much for me to write, yet I felt I had to do it or the end would not be right. It made me cry to read the last part of the Tale of Aragorn and Arwen appendix, and this is much more in-depth (I cried as I wrote this ch.). YOU'VE BEEN WARNED! If you really want, you can scroll down to the very bottom where the last two paragraphs are cheerier than the main part. First I would like to thank each and every one of you that read my story and brightened my day with your lovely responses:

Lindahoyland, Eldarwen Elanesse, Natulcien, Valia-Elf, viviana, luv24+alias, Nerwen Aldarion, Tinuviel Undomiel, Bubble-Sheep, Sauron, ArwenElfstone, Satan's Advocate, Lia, fearlessfreak, kaylz, One of Those Girls, Eldamari, Moi, AnimeSiren, PrincessIce, Mouth of Sauron

Many and much thanks! You guys are so wonderful and encouraging! I truly hope to post another story very soon, AND PLEASE SUBMIT A REVIEW SINCE THIS IS THE VERY LAST CHAPTER AND I WOULD REALLY LIKE TO KNOW HOW IT WAS FROM ALL OF YOU EVEN IF YOU DID NOT REVIEW BEFORE. Anar kuluva tielyanna!

* * *

All seasons change, children mature, time never stands still even in the most extraordinary of moments, and all Men have an appointed day to pass beyond the circles of this world. Kingdoms and reigning houses pass in the eternal existence of time like blossoms on a tree. Time flows past like the undulating wind: never steady to one's point of view.

Yet there are some things that last throughout the ages of the world like the stars that shine radiantly in the heavens. One of these is love. It cannot be aged by time, nor eroded by its weathering storms. Love is eternal, and so the world must hold onto it lest it slip through their fingers and drift away with the wind.

Aragorn Elessar, renowned throughout Middle-earth and watched from afar by the Valar in the West, woke from a deep, troubled sleep. He sat up in bed and took a moment to gather himself before rising. Arwen lay still and did not stir when he moved.

He wandered out of their bed chambers and into the broad corridors of the White Tower. There was an ethereal air to the Tower when night fell. All was silent but for the slight ruffling of the tapestries stirring in the gentle breeze slipping in through some of the windows. Only silver moonlight lighted the way for there were no lamps in that area, and it seemed to shatter and coalesce as his feet crossed its path.

Aragorn finally paused at a small balcony overlooking an open hall. There were two imposing figures on either side of him, the one on the left holding an open book and the other on the right bearing a long rod in his hand. The statues outside in plain view often held lances or swords in their grasps, yet within the halls of Minas Tirith they bore objects of Gondor's less threatening pursuits. These two represented knowledge and discipline.

When he looked down from his high place, he caught sight of a shadowed figure sitting on the marble steps leading down into the hall. Aragorn retreated from the balustrade and moved silently down to meet him.

"You wake also, my son?"

Eldarion looked up and nodded. The shimmering moonlight glanced upon his finely chiselled features: he was no longer a boy nor a young man. He was fully matured now and bore the carven face of a man who had grown in body, heart, and mind over many years; yet he was still as fetching as he had been in his youth. He and Vanimeldë dwelt in the Tower of Ecthelion with their son as close kin of the King of Gondor and Arnor.

"I did not feel sleep come to me," said Eldarion with the rich timbre of his voice lifting into the silence. "What of you?"

"I had strange, dark dreams." Aragorn slowly and carefully sat beside his son.

"Dark? But how…?"

"The Shadow is not fully rooted out, Eldarion. Do not let your guard down even now in these days of peace. The Shadow will always be with us until the end comes. But even so, it was not of that darkness that I speak. I did not see anything clearly, yet there were visions…"

"Of what?" Eldarion prompted when Aragorn fell silent for a long stretch of time.

"I saw tears falling into the water at the roots of Nimloth—though no face did I glimpse—and all of her blossoms closing fast and falling to the ground. I saw also the niphredil on the slopes of Cerin Amroth and in the grass of Lothlórien shining like white, glimmering stars among the verdant green…until they began to whither and disappear from the earth."

"Those are dark visions indeed, and I cannot make out what they would mean."

"Nor can I. Perhaps they were only dreams…"

"We can hope, my father."

"Eldarion," said Aragorn softly, "will you change anything here when you are crowned King of Gondor?"

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he answered. "There is nothing that I can think of for you have seamlessly constructed the foundations of our lands and kingdoms. The governing is flawless, the treatment is chaste, and the growth of prosperity of the cities in Gondor, Arnor, and the other lands under our influence continues to increase. There are hardly any reports of disturbance in the North, South, West, or East. You are loved immensely by all the people and folks of Middle-earth, and respected more than any other man. What is there to change?"

Aragorn thought for a moment and nodded. "Perhaps that is so."

"Yet…there is one thing I may do differently."

"And what is that?"

"I wish to minister to the young who never lived in the difficult and dark times of Middle-earth so that they will know what sacrifices were made to create this peace that we have and why it is so important to maintain it. Then, possibly, we will not see any of this rebellious spirit arising in some of the youth who do not understand what it means for all Men to stand as one against the Shadow. I dealt with such trouble directly, so it has remained in my heart ever since to take it in hand."

Faint hints of a smile arose upon Aragorn's face, and he placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "You give me much hope, Eldarion. I am and always have been ever proud of what you have accomplished…and what you will accomplish." However, his joy dissipated as he realised what was happening and why he had asked his son such a question. He knew that Eldarion's time to take his place upon the Throne of Gondor was fast approaching. He knew that his own time was now drawing thin…

* * *

Arwen watched Aragorn as he gazed down upon his bright sword Andúril. It lay in its silver sheath wrought with glittering gems and runes of fortification on a plinth made especially for the blade where he had always kept it in their bed chambers. His fingers gently caressed its hilt and ran down most its length. She glanced up at his face and saw a look of distant reverie.

"Estel, is something the matter?" she asked softly once he lifted away his hand.

He looked up into her silvery-grey eyes, and she was amazed to see sorrow in his piercing gaze. She searched his eyes intently but could find nothing more.

"No, 'tis nothing. I was just…remembering." A wistful smile washed away the sadness within the depths of his gaze, and he left Andúril in its place. "Do not worry."

_How can I not when you seem so far away and full of woe?_ she thought. It was not the first instance she had noticed something different in his demeanour. "I shall try, my love."

He drew closer and grasped her hands in his, firmly and tenderly. "Undómiel…we have seen so many dark times and endured so many troubles; and we have loved for more than a lifetime. I do not think I could ever have loved you more than I do now."

She smiled and reached up to touch his cheek. "You were always like the Star of Eärendil burning brilliantly in the heavens to light my path." Her hand fell to her side. "And our children….They could not have been greater or more beautiful in heart and appearance."

Aragorn said nothing. He merely let himself fall into the Evenstar's mellow, beautiful eyes, drawing her to him in a spiritual embrace as internal tears flowed down his cheeks.

* * *

Arwen first began to fear that something was truly the matter a whole fortnight later. She was idly creating a wreath of flowers in one of the lush courtyards of Minas Tirith when she felt a sudden lurch in her stomach. She set the flowers aside and lifted a hand to her brow. It had felt as though a portion of her being had been torn from her without warning. She suddenly felt an emotion that she had not felt in over a hundred years: terror.

Arwen hurried out of the courtyard and went straight to where Aragorn was for it had been of him that the feeling had come. When she saw him, he seemed well in outward appearance, yet Arwen could feel that he was not completely himself even from a distance. When their eyes met…her heart plummeted.

"My lord," she said coming to him with gradual steps. "Days have passed, the blossoms of Nimloth flourish, and yet you are no longer with us."

She reached for him with trembling hands. He took them and drew her to sit beside him. So great a silence passed between them that neither believed the other would dare to shatter the stillness that had fallen upon them as though the weaving of time had paused to listen and the sun to look down upon them.

"At last, Lady Evenstar, fairest in this world, and most beloved, my world is fading. Lo! we have gathered, and we have spent, and now the time of payment draws near."

"Would you then, lord, before your time leave your people that live by your word?" she said. Her voice was hardly a whisper.

"Not before my time," he answered. "For if I will not go now, then I must soon go perforce. And Eldarion our son is a man full-ripe for kingship."

No more words could be spoken upon their lips. Arwen understood, and so they arose from that fair place to tread the long, lingering journey down into the Silent Street. Shadows mirrored their hollow steps in Rath Dínen as they walked together beneath the balustrades and the ancient images of kings long past.

Arwen had known this day would come, but she could not have prepared for the sting of its bitterness. She gazed ahead into the darkness that awaited them in the House of the Stewards where lay embalmed the kings of old. Never did her step falter even when she felt her soul would tear asunder.

A long bed had been prepared for the King of the Westernesse. Arwen turned away from it and looked upon the one who had been a part of her soul and spirit for long ages of the world. How could she live upon the earth once he departed?

* * *

By now all within the city knew of the approach of their beloved King's passing, and Eldarion arrived with Silmarien and Tinúviel following behind at a distance. His face was ashen and strained as he stepped into the gloom of the chamber of Stewards. Father greeted son, though no warmth could be felt by the hands that had once wielded wisdom, power, and grace. Eldarion stepped aside as his younger sisters approached to bid their father a final farewell. Though they were grieved, they still bestowed tender smiles upon their father as they both took up his hand to lay a gentle kiss upon it before leaving together.

Aragorn took the Sceptre of Annúminas from his right hand and laid it in the hand of his son. Then he took the Winged Crown of Gondor from his brow and placed it atop Eldarion's. Arwen watched as the kingship was passed to her dear son in dreadful silence that spoke more than any words.

"My son, the burden is now yours," Aragorn murmured as he grasped Eldarion's head in his hands. "Carry it well, and use all that you have learnt in the long years of your life and from mine also."

"I will rule with all of the love and wisdom that has been gifted to me, my dear father. I will not fail your beloved memory." Eldarion fought back tears as he embraced his father one last time, and Aragorn looked upon him as King of Gondor and Arnor with a fulfilled gleam in his eye. "Farewell," Eldarion whispered as he stepped back and departed.

He found that his sisters were waiting for him as they wept quietly. They did not speak, but stayed near one another as they travelled down the Silent Street that could never have been more aptly named.

* * *

Arwen was now alone with her beloved lord. He laid down upon his bed of passing, and the Evenstar held his hand tightly in hers as though clasping him so would forgo the moment she dreaded above all else. His smile was wan and heart-rending as he turned his head to gaze upon her.

"Lady Undómiel, the hour is indeed hard, yet it was made even in that day when we met under the white birches in the garden of Elrond where none now walk. And on the hill of Cerin Amroth when we forsook both the Shadow and the Twilight this doom we accepted. Take counsel with yourself, beloved, and ask whether you would indeed have me wait until I wither and fall from my high seat unmanned and witless. Nay, lady, I am the last of the Númenóreans and the latest King of the Elder Days; and to me has been given not only a span thrice that of Men of Middle-earth, but also the grace to go at my will, and give back the gift. Now, therefore, I will sleep. I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of this world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men."

"Nay, dear lord," she said, "that choice is long over. There is now no ship that would bear me hence, and I must indeed abide the Doom of Men, whether I will or I nill: the loss and the silence. But I say to you, King of the Númenóreans, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. As wicked fools I scorned them, but I pity them at last. For if this is indeed, as the Elder say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive."

"So it seems," he said. "But let us not be overthrown at the final test, who of old renounced the Shadow and the Ring. In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! we are not bound forever to the circles of this world, and beyond them is more than memory. Farewell!"

"Estel, Estel!" she cried, and with that even as he took her hand and kissed it, he fell into sleep. Then a great beauty was revealed in him, so that all who after came there looked on him in wonder; for they saw that the grace of his youth, and the valour of his manhood, and the wisdom and majesty of his age were blended together. And long there he lay, an image of the splendour of the Kings of Men in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world.

Arwen's warm breath caressed her beloved's lifeless cheek. The warm fingers that had grasped her hand were now limp and cold. She lay the hand upon his breast and stared in burgeoning anguish at the immortal countenance of King Elessar Telcontar. The light of her eyes faded, her trembling hands stilled, and her soul was no longer bright and whole.

* * *

At the moment of King Elessar's death, ripples of grief spread in an instant throughout Middle-earth. In Minas Tirith the bells tolled in mournful, resonating cries as the people wept and were silent in honour of their Elfstone whom all had so dearly loved. In fair Edoras men stirred from their duties and looked to the West as a nameless sorrow pierced their hearts, and a chill wind ruffled in the rolling plains of emerald grass. In the dark woods of Fangorn Forest the ancient trees awoke from fitful sleep and reverberated with moaning. In the forsaken realm of the Elves Lothlórien the niphredil upon Cerin Amroth shuddered though no wind blew over the hallowed hill, and the bright waters quieted. In the mountainous land of Erebor the tumult of hammer and anvil of the Dwarves was silenced, and they fell grim of heart. In the abandoned valley of Imladris the birches of Elrond's gardens swayed sombrely, and it seemed as though distant crystal voices from the past drifted in the air in a glorious lament. In the verdant Shire, where the Hobbits dwelt in tranquillity and prosperity, many hung their heads or took a moment in silence. All of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth felt the deafening blow as their greatest king departed with his last breath.

Yet none felt the blow as mortally as Arwen Undómiel, Evenstar of her people. All who looked upon her afterwards saw not the bright maiden who had graced the City of Kings, but a shell of one who had been.

Seven days were spent in silence in honour of King Elessar Telcontar whose memory would ever remain dear and exalted in their hearts. Children for many ages to come would hear his tale and respect him with words of praise for no other king had done so much for his people whom he loved. Gondor and Arnor had never been at a greater height of glory and might, nor its people so prosperous or content.

Minas Tirith rejoiced in its newfound King who they had already come to adore in his youth, yet Arwen could find little joy in the placing of her son upon the Throne of Gondor and Arnor. Only a fortnight had passed since her beloved's passing when she knew she must go.

She summoned her daughters and her son to her before her mournful departure.

"Silmarien, Tinúviel…my love shall always be with you as is your father's. Namárië, my fair and beloved daughters." She embraced each of them and turned to Eldarion, King of the Westernesse. "And my son…"

Eldarion knelt and kissed the palm of her hand. "My heart despairs at your going, but I shall be at peace at last."

"Namárië, Eldarion: most beloved of Minas Tirith." She took his head in her pale hands and pressed her lips to his brow. He thought he glimpsed a flash of the light that once gilded her grey eyes as she looked into his. But she turned away, and he and his sisters left her.

No company escorted Arwen Evenstar, Queen of Gondor, from the city. She alone rode upon a white steed out of the mighty realm without provision or guide but for the stars and sun above her fair head. She did not pause to rest for no longer did she need sleep, food, or drink. Mortal wants no longer plagued her.

Days passed before she approached the empty realm of fair Lothlórien from the South. The golden leaves and blossoms of the mallorn drifted about her as she rode into the depths of the Golden Wood. The air was fresh and clear as it had been in the days of the Galadhrim. She dismounted soon after and bid her horse return to Minas Tirith for she would be in utter solitude.

The lands were quiet and beautiful, the breeze a warm stroke upon the skin. Birds sang sweetly in the golden boughs of the ancient trees as they recalled the Fair Folk who had walked among them long years ago. Lothlórien was abandoned by all but one.

The Evenstar's steps wove among the gold elanor and the white niphredil as she made her way to the hill of Cerin Amroth. The brilliant flowers were washed in her beauty and grace, yet Arwen walked unshod upon the flower-scattered slopes with her eyes dull as the grey of a distant storm. There she looked out upon the land one last moment in time, remembering the day she had stood in the same place with Aragorn as they plighted their troth and revealed their eternal love. She closed her eyes and laid herself down gently in the grass and fell into sleep. The niphredil slowly began to wither and the elanor also as the twilight of the earth fell over Middle-earth and the stars rose into the heavens with unconquered brilliance.

* * *

"_In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! we are not bound forever to the circles of this world, and beyond them is more than memory." _

The Doom of Men is decided and known to all in Middle-earth and Valinor, yet where men go is not seen by any but the One who sits above Ea and watches over his Children. Just as Beren Erchamion and Lúthien Tinúviel met beyond the world, so as two others who sacrificed their lives to one another meet for love is eternal and cannot be broken by time or even death. Aragorn Elessar and Arwen Undómiel were not long parted as they were joined in the undying lands of Men where those who have passed return in the glorious presence of Ilúvatar. They would walk together in those unspoiled, unseen lands, bask in each other's arms, and never depart from the other unto eternity.

_In loving memory of those who have departed Middle-earth, gone beyond the circles of this world, and left their memories for us till the ends of time; Aragorn II, Elessar Telcontar, Hope of Men, King of the West, Envinyatar, and Arwen Undómiel, Evenstar of her People, Queen of Gondor, Daughter of Elrond, Lady of Rivendell. Without them, all hope would have faded at last. May their noble blood and bittersweet tale live on throughout the ages. Namárië._


End file.
